


One Hour and Then...

by StarshineInTheDark



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Crying, F/F, Gore, Hijacking, Hostage Situations, I'm Sorry, Kidnapping, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suffering, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Torture, What Have I Done, that I didn't post this sooner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2020-08-23 15:14:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20244928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarshineInTheDark/pseuds/StarshineInTheDark
Summary: “We have fourteen kids with us, and one dead adult. Two of them are females. For every twelve hours that pass, one of them dies, and for every twenty four, we rape one of the girls. I advise that you guys comply with our demands, before we run out of kids to kill. My friend over there’s been wanting to test out his new knife. You have six days to respond. Do so quickly. The time starts… now.”…On their way to a remote training camp with Nekoma and Fukorodani, the Karasuno bus gets hijacked by a dangerous group of terrorists. With one of the adults missing, and the other dead, the remaining teens have to find out a way to survive against time, as their lives count on the speed of the clock, and their safety on the speed of response.#Hostage situations #kidnapping #Injury #Torture





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry but I only know how to write angst and suffering. There's really nothing more to be said than hold on to your seatbelts, this might be a wild ride.

Prologue

“Is everyone here?” Takeda-sensei asked generally, taking inventory of the students gathered near the bus as they packed in their luggage at the back. Loud choruses of ‘Yes!’ sounded from the volleyball club members, Ukai dressed in his usual apparel yawned widely with little discretion, blaringly lethargic at having to wake up at around five in the morning on a Saturday.

Karasuno volleyball club had yet been invited to another training camp by the powerhouse Tokyo schools of Nekoma high and Fukorodani academy, and was getting ready to take off from Miyagi on the first Saturday of the month of September. Grueling as the previous trip had been, this current one required no exams or supplementary classes needed for all members to be present. Therefore, for that ride, all of them, regardless of recent academic performances, were required to attend.

He’d even been told that the other powerhouse, where the Miya Twins of Inarizaki attended, would be present, but he figured he would surprise them as soon as they got there.

Hinata’s excitement seemingly reached no bounds as he hopped onto the bus, excited at having to attend training camp with his made friends from Nekoma and Fukorodani again. Kageyama, who walked beside him had only managed a glare before telling him to calm down, ending his short, aggressive statement with his usual ‘dumbass Hinata’. A short distance behind them, their tall blond middle blocker made a passive comment about ‘starting the day with their usual stupidity’, while Yamaguchi snickered amused beside him.

The rest of the second and third years boarded the bus, the managers right behind them, with the sensei and coach being the last to board.

Eventually, after making sure all students were finally accounted for, he’d kicked started the gears, and the Karasuno volleyball club hit the road.

The training camp was supposed to be held in Fukorodani, as was previously planned, but due to the school being put on lock down on account of a certain lab accident occurring within the academy grounds, their address had been moved elsewhere. According to the text he’d received from Nekomata, they were having their camp somewhere around the mountains, in a huge school structure leant to them by a boarding school for the duration of the summer. Their grounds were huge and secure, protected by such a vast amount of forestry that there was only one particular lane to follow to enable them safely make their way through to the gates.

Having administered all that in his head on their journey, he let out a breath and activated the vehicle’s built in GPS device, glancing occasionally at the screen to enable he wasn’t getting them lost.

The journey to the place was far more miles than it would have taken them to get to Tokyo, and that being said, he approximated the trip would—with breaks in between—would amount to over five hours on the road.

He and the coach would have to switch up at least twice, depending on how much energy they were running on.

At the back, he could hear the murmurs and chatter of the students behind the bus, the few that weren’t sleeping, awake enough to entertain themselves with conversations or, like Tanaka and Noya, try to beat each other’s high scores on his videogame PSP.

Sooner or later, as the journey progressed, and as the scenery begun to change gradually from signs of country and city life to more roadside greenery and sloping ledges, more students fell asleep, lethargy overtaking their needs to stay awake as the lull of the progressing ride ventured on, almost seeming unending. The road the bus took was terribly desolate, barely another vehicle in sight unless they should travel for another mile. That, plus the growing forest greenery was almost calming, yet unnerving in a way that empty, suffocating silence seemed to be.

During Takeda’s second shift, while Ukai was asleep as well as 90% of the bus’ occupants exempting Kiyoko who was awake reading, and Hinata who seemed to be texting someone,—perhaps Kenma—their destination seemed to get nearer, at the very least, a few more miles. The GPS said that there were a small number of vehicles up ahead, which he immediately assumed to be the other visiting schools from Tokyo and other prefectures. It had been unexpected really, seeing as how they were always usually the last to arrive, and not amongst the first in these situations—not that they’d had that many.

However, he hadn’t been ready for the amount of surprise that slapped him across the face, to have found out how wrong he’d been.

1

**15:00**

HINATA awoke from his prior sleepiness to the buzz of his phone, indicating an incoming text from Kenma. He brought the yellow cell upwards from where it had been lying dormant in his pocket to his face, and read through the words displayed on the screen.

“Whoa…! Nekoma’s already there. Awesome!” He beamed out of sheer excitement, fingers typing quickly to reply to the sent photo of the Nekoma club climbing out of their bus with series of excited, happy emojis.

**You:**

**We’re almost there!!!!! Can’t wait to play against you again!**

Ending with a final exclamation point, his finger pressed down on the send button, the checkmark that was supposed to appear beside the message to declare it had been successfully sent not appearing. He guessed there was a low signal at that point of the plane near the mountains. Outside, the roads were empty, vehicles barely on the streets. Takeda-sensei and the coach hadn’t really explained the location of the place to the team. Only that it would be somewhere in the mountains, surrounded by lots of forest and trees, and in this really ginormous boarding school. It sounded cool, and the place seemed like it would have all those huge, massive gyms, like the ones in Seijoh or Shiratorizawa, except bigger.

The thought of having to play with them all again, Kenma, and the scary comb head captain, and his mentor Bokuto-san, and the lanky half-Russian Lev—it was exhilarating, and he couldn’t help but bounce in his seat at the notion that he would soon be joining all of them, all in a few more hours.

… Hours.

“Gaaaaahhh….” he whined, drooping in his seat till he was slouching fully and his head was almost off the backrest. “Too long…!”

“…Shut up, dumbass…” He heard Kageyama mumble from his seat beside him, his eyes closed while drool escaped in a thin line from his slightly open mouth. Hinata stifled a laugh at the sight, refraining himself from taking any embarrassing photos. That would be something Tsukishima would do, and he was a mean jerk, which Hinata was not, so he would only laugh and point at his partner’s weird sleep habits while he was unaware.

While Hinata was awake, mostly everyone was asleep—or at least, the one’s he could see. And sensei who was driving the bus. The quietness and prolonged movement of the vehicle would have put him back to sleep automatically, but his heart and stomach and excitement were keeping him from falling into the unconscious void of slumber, his eyes always gazing towards the window at front, as if expecting them to run into something that would prolong the ride.

Hinata hoped not. All he wanted was to get to the camp as quickly as possible, and start playing all the volleyball he could in the time they had. The last thing he wanted was for something, anything, to add an extra minute or second to the already long trip.

Nevertheless, despite all of Hinata’s hopes and silent prayers, he felt the bus slow down, gradually, gently. His heart dropped, and he huffed, almost annoyed, when the bus came to a stop at the end. He got up, peering at the front to find out the cause.

“Hey, are we there yet?” he wondered, looking out and peering around. They still seemed to be on the road, and he could see a mountain close by, but he wasn’t even sure if they were yet close enough to the school.

At the front, he could see Kiyoko awake as well, head tilted while she looked outside. A few others, Ennoshita and Yamaguchi woke up as well, although they looked a bit drowsy, having just woken up at that exact moment.

As he looked out though, he could identify the cause for the bus’ stop. In front of them on the road, as if forming a blockade, a small gathering of people obstructed the way, standing there like they were waiting for something or someone before they could bother to move. Maybe they were lost travelers needing to hitch a ride? He’d never seen those before, so Hinata was slightly curious. Although, he wondered if lost travelers dressed in combat boots and carried guns in their hands as well.

Before his pondering could get any further than it did, Takeda-sensei was winding down the window, adjusting his glasses and holding a confused expression on his face. He was about to voice out a question, maybe ask if they needed some help, but then a loud bang was heard resonating through the small space of the bus, startling Hinata’s throat out of his mouth.

In a matter of seconds, Kiyoko was screaming, and as soon as the redhead’s bearings and shock had been set, he settled his eyes on their sensei, who was now on the floor of the bus, the lower half of his body still perched on his seat while a growing puddle of blood gathered underneath his head.

_What just happened…?_

“S-S-Sensei!!!” Hinata yelled, confusion and shock and a strange feeling in his gut, mixing and concocting into an odd unidentifiable emotion as his eyes stayed perched on his still—_too still_—sensei, the pool of blood growing larger, and larger and not stopping.

By this time, the rest of the bus’ occupants were now wide awake, and were staring with the same mix of emotions in their eyes. Confusion though, was more apparent.

“What’s going on?!” That was their coach in the front, standing up suddenly from where he’d been sitting and sleeping before. His expression read purely horrified, all their gazes and his drifting towards the one responsible for the gunshot still positioned by their window.

None were prepared for the next gunshot that had sounded, taking their coach right in the chest, near his heart. Someone screamed again, the higher pitch and pure fear radiating from it indicating it was Yachi, who was now also awake. Her position beside Kiyoko which was nearer to the front allowed her a terrifying front row seat to all the action. Hinata didn’t want to imagine being at such a close proximity to the danger zone.

People had startled once more at the second gunshot, most of the third years standing up from their seats, others in the front row scrambling to get as far away from the fatal threat as much as they possibly could. A loud, metallic screech was heard coming in the direction of the bus entrance, as if someone was trying to bust open the double doors by force. Hinata guessed that was what they were indeed doing, and realized they were trying to invade the inside of the vehicle.

“Everyone, move back!” Daichi hollered, his voice loud, clear and stable amidst the looming chaos over their heads. He stood in front of them all, acting as some kind of protective shield, his brows furrowed in concentration—and a flurry of other emotions—most including _fear_—while he stared ahead. Asahi, Noya and Tanaka stood likewise in a similar fashion, stances steady and firm, expressions like those of men about to go into the front lines of a war with only knives on their hands and grit in their guts.

The remaining population of the occupants could only squeeze themselves into the last two rows of the bus, while the ones at the front seemed to hold their breaths. Kageyama, who’d been in deep sleep before was now fully awake, his eyes wide as he looked on at the front of the bus at the impending doom, his grip on the chair before him tight, knuckle pale from the force he was exerting, like he was forcing himself not to shake.

Tsukishima, pressed in between Yamaguchi and the window, clucked his tongue in annoyance, muttering out a “shit” as his eyes were locked on to his phone, his grip on the smartphone terribly firm enough that it looked like it would break if he squeezed any further. Hinata guessed he was trying to dial emergency.

The short middle blocker was about to voice out how there probably wasn’t any signal, but then the metallic screech at the front wailed even louder, the cadence too many octaves high for his eardrums to handle, before it all came to a stop. Yamaguchi, who had been hyperventilating behind him suddenly held his breath, as did Yachi, and everyone else around him as the bus doors had been finally forced open.

The first footstep that landed onto the floor of the bus felt like the petrifying tremors of a volcanic earthquake, the thump of the next like thunder striking metal. Hinata could feel his heart thump loudly, the fast pace of his pulse incomparable to the way it would have felt after a long run, or a volleyball match, or a hard practice.

It was pure terror.

The view of a hardened looking male stepping into their bus came to light, cameo pants, a shirt and jacket and combat boots being his getup. He had what Hinata would have referred to as the face of a villain, with his raggedy hair, his beard, and a look in his eyes that promised only pain and a lifetime’s worth of suffering—like the eyes of the devil himself.

He had a gun holstered by his side, a dreadfully large one, and though he wasn’t holding or pointing it at any one of them, Hinata would have preferred the distance between the weapon and himself, to be as far away from each other as humanly possible.

It wasn’t long before the man’s ensemble were escorting themselves into the space of the vehicle. There were five more of them, at the very most—and these ones actually held their guns, with only two of them pointing their deadly weapons in the direction of the helpless, defenseless teenagers. Hinata could feel his teammates tense around him, could sense the fear and uncertainty from each and every one of them as they all tried to huddle together as the group of men began to slowly close their distance. The one in the center, the man that had first boarded their bus uninvited, instantly made a grab for his gun.

Hinata jumped.

“Sorry to interrupt your field trip kids,” The man’s voice was deep, a chilling tenor that made the redhead want to bury himself beneath the ground and never leave. The man’s brows were raised, looking almost amused at the way they all seemed to have flinched in fear from his voice and following actions. He didn’t look sorry at all. “Unfortunately, we’ll be hijacking your bus today.”

No one really said anything, all of them quiet, scared of directing his attention towards one particular person. Even Daichi, and the rest in front remained quiet, beads of sweat rolling from their heads as the man continued to talk.

“Fortunately though, you’ll all be coming with us…”

_What? Why?_

“… W-Why?” He heard their captain voice out the exact questions swimming in Hinata’s head, his heart thumping in fear and awe at their captain, who remained brave enough in the face of imminent danger. Hinata felt Kageyama beside him visibly tense as the man’s eyes shifted and landed on their team leader, the same fear he felt for the third year awfully similar in a sense, that it was almost scary.

The man smiled, the grin far from cheerful, as he looked intently at Daichi, gaze glowering. “Let’s just say,” His voice was low, dangerous. “You’ll all be serving a great purpose.” And with that, he turned around and walked past his group to the front of the bus, probably to find a way to start the vehicle. “You guys, take care of the kids?” He’d been referring to the five other men who’d followed after him, and were now facing them, ill-promising intent worn on their faces.

One of them, a brunet possessing an eye patch on his left eye, brought out a worn potato sack, and spread it open to reveal the dusty, empty interior. “Put in your phones,” he demanded, and suddenly, the cocking of two guns being pointed at them came into view.

There was a slight beat of hesitation on their parts, them being rather reluctant to relinquish their only sources of communication with the rest of the world, and it wasn’t long before their rather small patience wore thin, and a gun was being pointed directly at him. Hinata’s eyes came in contact with the end of the barrel, the deep, inky hole looking like an endless void filled with nothing else but promises of death.

His spine shook with disturbing chills as a fear-filled whimper escaped him.

His gaze soon shifted towards Daichi, who was now reaching into his pocket, and revealing his phone. His voice was firm, but seemed to shake as he addressed his teammates behind him. “It’s okay guys… let’s listen to them.” He motioned forward, and dropped his phone into the open sack. “Hand over your phones.”

At the affirmation, people’s devices were being handed over, each device making an audible _clack _as the cells dropped and landed onto the growing piles of phones. Hinata remained frightened, the thought of keeping his phone to himself somewhat sticking to him. He could see Kageyama staring, his intense, blue eyes sending the redhead warning signals to not do anything stupid. Hinata blatantly ignored him, and sent a quick text to Kenma, their chat page still on screen from before.

His phone was the last one to be sent in, and with that, a new feeling of uncertainty settled into his stomach. The bus already began to move once more, the engine rumbling beneath his feet.

_What was going to happen now?_

The question seemed to rotate and spread amongst them, a general aura that gripped the volleyball club members as they all stood, shifted to the back, trying to make any sense on what was currently even happening. Small hitched breaths sounded from somewhere behind him, and he didn’t need to look before he could identify it as a panicking Yachi, crouched behind the seat and hugging her knees to her chest in fright.

Hinata bit his lip and averted his gaze to the other members, all wearing the same expressions of uneasiness on their faces, even the normally, dauntless, cool, Tsukishima.

Peering outside, he could see the direction of the bus changing, the front facing the direction they’d previously been coming from, driving them further away from their supposed destination. Not even a minute later, the man—who he’d dubbed the leader, judging from the way he held himself—had stepped up to them again.

“Hey kids.” He smiled at them. “The journey’s gonna be a bit long, so I’d prefer you all sit down.” Everyone remained still, unmoving. Their senpai in front looked adamant at keeping their kouhai safe from harm’s way, although the leader looked far from pleased with their noncompliance, his hand soon holding and pointing a gun—shorter in size than the one at his side—in their general direction. “Now.”

Their response was quick, Daichi stepping forward first, and the rest following suit. They all walked to their respective seats, each of the managers sharing with at least one of the boys, their movements scared and terse.

“Oi, wait,” another of the guys, one with dirty blonde hair and a bandana over his forehead spoke up, his face holding an irritated expression that looked to have been permanent. The other surrounding men looked in his direction, brows arched at his sudden call to attention. “What about us? We standing or what?”

Their leader rolled his eyes, sigh annoyed. “What do you want to do then? Sit on the roof?”

Bandana seemed to huff at their leader’s adverse response, scowling dangerously and sending a glare in his direction. He was about to speak, probably procure some kind of argument, when Eye patch guy spoke up.

“Hey, I have an idea,” he said, stepping up to the front of the bus, and staring discerningly at each of them. “All of you,” he waved his gun around, the repetitive motion causing a mental headache to form in Hinata’s head. “Get on the floor.” His gun waved at the short, narrow path in between the lined seats, and with as much reluctance as a man who was still trying to comprehend a foreign situation, they complied, each of them rising slowly from their seats and positioning themselves on the floor. The four men took the chairs, the one with the bandana clucking his tongue as he did.

The leader meanwhile, proceeded to roll his eyes at his men’s antics, and remained on his feet, backing them with his eyes positioned on the road and his arms folded.

Hinata sat still with his knees to his chest, his chin resting on top his legs, trying to keep his gaze off the men whose heights loomed over them more than before, with their now lowered field of vision. Kageyama, who’d positioned himself diagonally beside him had his legs in a similar position, except his head was fully lowered, face shielded by crossed arms, as if he was sleeping.

Stupid Kageyama. How could he sleep in this kind of situation?

Deciding to avert his attention elsewhere, his gaze fell on the people in front of him. Yachi was seated beside Kiyoko, the older manager holding her and trying to get her to calm down from her hyperventilation. The third years were easily spotted together, Suga and Daichi leaning against each other, Asahi positioned beside them, eyes closed but not really relaxed, like he was thinking. Tanaka and Noya were somewhat beside them, the latter in front of the former, hard gazes fixed on everyone else like watchful hawks. The only people behind Hinata were Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and the rest of the second years, Ennoshita, Kinnoshita, and Narita.

The ride was silent, occasional shifts from different sides—the floor wasn’t exactly comfortable—the only thing he could make sense of, his eyes snapping open whenever he felt sleep come. His head ached, his stomach turned uncomfortably, and his eyes stung, although it stopped whenever he shut his lids tightly and rubbed against them.

One of the men, from what he could see, had begun lighting a cigar, a bored, tired look in his eyes as he kicked his feet up, the dusty boots balanced on top of the seat before him. The action reminded him of his coach, and he’d suddenly remembered how he’d been shot, along with their sensei, both of them most probably dead.

Their bodies were no longer in the bus of course, as they’d been thrown out upon the invader’s entry. But he could still see the now drying blood gathered near the driver’s seat, the rancid, coppery stench now noticeable the moment he’d acknowledged it.

Hinata’s headache grew into slowly arriving vertigo, feeling gradually overwhelmed by the fact that they were being kidnapped by a group of merciless killers, and had no way of telling if they were all going to get killed as well. His eyes stung again, but just as quickly as the feeling had come, he’d pressed against his eyes again.

They were supposed to have been in the camp center by now. He was supposed to have been with Kenma, and the others as well. Hinata would’ve been playing volleyball by now with his team, Kageyama sending him his perfect tosses, with the hard feel of an equally perfect spike against his palm. He could hear the sweet echoes of a successful kill, the sound of the ball landing on the other side of the court like soul lifting trumpets, the cheers of his team like music to his ears.

Eventually, Hinata allowed his eyes to droop shut, letting his head get lost in the dreams of what should have been, and if only for a moment, trying to escape the heart crushing reality that he, and the rest of Karasuno volleyball club, now faced.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Karasuno bus gets hijacked: A continuation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank ya'll for all the reception and kudos and comments I've gotten in the past few days, you guys are gems and I adore you! Sit back and relax, cuz the ride's just getting started.

**16:45**

HINATA awoke to the jolt of the bus as the vehicle swerved off the road and into the thickly condensed forest. He rubbed at his eyes quickly, brown orbs gazing out the window to see the changed view of the outside, the only thing in sight being trees and condensed greenery. The floor beneath the bus was uneven compared to the smooth road they had previously been travelling on, and Hinata had to look for something to hold on to so he didn’t fall sideways or shake as much.

Aside from the infrequent tremors, the bus remained quiet. Yachi who had previously been crying and shaking was now still and silent, and all the prior noises that had occurred before Hinata went off to sleep were no longer present.

From what Hinata could see, they had gone through a cleared path in the forest, wide enough for the bus to pass, but thick enough to not have it noticed from a certain distance. Beside him, Kageyama’s head was no longer buried between his folded arms, his chin resting atop his knees, half his face hidden behind his arms, so that his eyes could only be seen. Kageyama’s deep, blue eyes usually looked concentrated, vexed, and even sometimes dumb and oblivious. The unfamiliar ambience that now swirled within them scared him.

“… Hey,” he whispered, making sure to keep his voice and presence as quiet as possible. The last thing he wanted was for any of their attention to be on him. “Kageyama.”

Sharp orbs quickly averted to his direction, the quick movement the only sign that the first year setter was paying attention. A voiceless “what?” was written across his face.

“Are…” _Are you scared? _He wanted to ask, the words on the edge of his tongue, but his voice lodged at the back of his throat. Hinata, no matter how much he wanted to, was afraid to ask the question. Because if he actually admitted it, if he revealed to him the extent of his fears, then in doing so, it would make Hinata’s own fears even worse. It would make the situation they were in realer than it ever was.

After Hinata had later on shaken his head, muttered a small ‘nothing’, and faced forward, Kageyama had huffed, remaining silent and reserved, gaze as blank as ever. Although he could hear “dumbass” leave the other’s lips, and even though he felt the need to return the insult, he couldn’t help the little relief that flooded him, knowing that Kageyama wasn’t that far gone.

A moment later, Hinata’s eyes shifted to the guy that had been smoking before, and saw him toss the cigar to the side. It had landed on Yachi, who squeaked and quickly swiped it off her skirt like it was a dead bug.

Bandana guy chuckled, his position lay two seats behind Smoker guy, who was busy lighting another one. “That one’s like a lil’ mouse, ey?” Hinata didn’t want to turn to look at him, but he could tell he was grinning. He imagined him displaying his yellow teeth with no heed, the image causing him to grimace. “Ain’t that cute?”

Yachi had flinched and tried to bury herself into Kiyoko’s hold, clearly uncomfortable with the kind of attention put on her. At the front, he could see Noya growl, head turned slightly in an attempt to glare at the man. His movements had been stopped when Daichi met his eyes, his head slowly shaking, trying to tell him ‘Don’t.’

Noya faced forward once more with a ‘tch’, his eyes still narrowed, and expression scarily annoyed. Hinata faced away and tried to get lost in his thoughts about volleyball, his mom, his dad, and Natsu. It only served to make him sadder.

By the time the bus had slowed to a rough stop, everyone was sweaty and hot, the temperature somehow increasing in heat from its prior warmth. The Leader, who had been silent throughout the ride, finally turned around, his men rising from their seats as well. “Alright… get up” he instructed, his gun was in his hand, but no one wanted it pointed at anyone yet. Noya was reluctantly the last one to comply, Hinata noticing the glare the leader pointed towards him, but nothing really said afterwards.

After the driver and some other guy had stepped out, they were told to follow suit, the remaining three and the leader following behind them.

The weather was even hotter than it was in the bus, and the redhead felt like he was going to faint from heatstroke anytime from then. Several of them had their hands over their heads, trying to shield whatever portion of their bodies that they could from the dreadful heat. It was made even worse when he was told they were supposed to start walking.

“In this kind of heat?” Daichi muttered, cleaning off a sheen of sweat that had already begun to form on his forehead.

“You got a problem?” Bandana glared at him, menacing gaze fixed on Daichi, who in turn looked startled that he’d been heard. Smoker guy held back the aggressive Bandana by the back of his tank top, shaking his head and giving him a bored, but admonishing stare.

Smoker’s hand was shoved off by Bandana, but it had worked, and he’d ended up backing off. Hinata saw Daichi release his breath, a relieved sigh escaping him. From what he could tell, he was most likely glad that he wasn’t going to get confronted by the hostile male.

After the leader gave the word, they were all made to walk in a single file, the men stationed around them in positions to prevent them from escaping. “If any of you try to run, I’ll shoot you before you get very far.” The leader’s gaze was his most menacing, his soulless, merciless eyes unyielding to the fear that emanated from every one of them, and had managed to do the trick. No one dared to run.

The walk to wherever they were going to was tiring, and if possible, it felt longer than the bus ride. Hinata could owe it to the scorching heat and thermal warmth of the forest, the dirt and dust that accumulated on his shoes and clothes, the constant presence of bugs that flew around and bit him all over. He barely suppressed the tired and sometimes, annoyed sounds whenever a bug would get stuck in his ear, or the dirt climbing into his shoes disturbed him to the point beyond discomfort. Neither did any of his teammates or senpai, although he could hear the occasional curses of pent-up irritation muttered from Ennoshita in front of him. The older guys didn’t look like they were all that affected by any of these uncomfortable elements, and Hinata assumed jokingly to himself, that they were made of metal. The students though, weren’t faring all that well.

He could tell how dehydrated everyone was even after a few minutes passed, how tired, how so, very _hot_. The forest was uncomfortable, the dust and the bugs and the sweat, it was all uncomfortable, and the discomfort made him want to rip his hair out. _Stupid bugs, stupid trip, stupid men who think they could just make them _not _play volleyball today_—

At a point, several, _numerous_ other minutes later, the line had stopped, Hinata having to peep from behind several people to ascertain the cause. There was a brief moment of silence, confusion and concern written across everyone’s faces as they stared, and waited.

“Ah… he fainted.”

Ennoshita standing in his front, conveyed the root of the cause, his expression suggesting unease. When Hinata looked, he saw Yamaguchi leaning against Tsukishima, his eyes closed, but his face twisted in discomfort. The tall blond, sweat grimed and blatantly exhausted, looked to be extremely worried for the freckled teen, leaning further down so he could lay on the floor.

“Oi! What’s the matter?!” Bandana, who Hinata had labelled the most violent—given the amount of times he scowled, yelled and overall radiated the intent to _murder_—stomped over to the front, his brows furrowed aggressively as he directed a snarl to the source of his immediate ire. At the same time, Suga and Daichi had congregated to attend to Yamaguchi, Tsukishima holding the latter against himself, his knees now on the ground with the freckled teen propped up against them, trying to urge him to wake up. Hinata felt something crawl along his shoe, and opted to smack it away.

He wished he brought bug spray.

“I asked a question!” Bandana had gotten to the front, his hands already on his gun, but Tsukishima seemed like the only one amongst them that either didn’t care, or was too absorbed in his unconscious friend that all other factors suddenly faded into the background. He raised an irritated glare towards the armed man, eyes dangerously annoyed and exasperated.

“Can’t you see that he fainted?!” He raised his voice, uncaring of the purely aggravated offense that rested on the man’s expression. “It’s from the heatstroke. He needs to rest. He needs water…! Your yelling isn’t doing anything to help. How can you honestly think that making a bunch of kids walk in this kind of heat was a good idea? The least you could do—”

“Shut up.” A heavy boot suddenly landed against his chest, pinning him to the floor and easily cutting off the blond’s rant. Suga and Daichi stilled their actions at the immediate assault. “Shut the fuck up.”

Surprisingly enough, as Hinata looked at the unfolding scene, he saw that the boot hadn’t belonged to Bandana, like he’d thought it would, but the ever silent Smoker-san, the same bored expression on his face as he looked down at Tsukishima. The middle blocker had retained his glare, but he could tell the widened breadth of his eyes and dilated pupils meant he was kind of scared as well.

Bandana, who had been blocked from unleashing his fury on the tall blond, clucked his tongue, backing away from him but still maintaining his anger. “What a bratty little fucker,” he spat, turning away and stepping back towards his prior position behind the line. As Smoker-san withdrew his foot, the leader was already stepping towards him, watching the fainted boy on the ground as Tsukishima sat up, and dusted his shirt—not that it did much good.

“If the heat’s a problem, then we don’t have to worry.” His hands were behind is back, that frightening smile that never failed to give him goosebumps still curling his lips. “We’re almost there anyway,” he explained this, looking up at all of them, then pointing at one of his men, the one Hinata hadn’t been able to name given his lack of defining qualities. “You. Carry the kid.”

And that was that.

Eventually, after what felt to Hinata like an hour more, they had reached a single floored building, the structure looking like it was built a hundred years ago, with its faded exterior, and timeworn appearance. He however, didn’t care. As long as he was getting away from the scorching heat of the sun, then any kind of building was fine with him.

Without needing to be told, as soon as the door opened and they were given way, they all headed inside, all of them seemingly just as desperate as the other to get away from the heat.

Inside the building was just as shabby as the outside, dust and cobwebs on the ceiling and floor, what appeared to be old looking chairs, a table and an ancient CRT television in front of it. Beyond that was a door, the hinges barely holding the old, rusted iron together—although the surface itself wasn’t faring all that well either.

Hinata was among the last five to enter through that very door, and what he saw next compelled spikes of dread through his fragile being. It was a small room, smaller than the first, with two jail cells lining one half of the room. The steel bars that protected the cell’s interiors looking newer and firmer than the rest of the building, lined up accordingly with barely any space in between. In front of the cages was a camera stationed on a stand, facing its direction.

He’d never been in a cell before. He’d seen them in movies, plays, pointed at them in picture books, graphic novels and mangas, but never before had he ever imagined himself coming face-to-face with one. The thought of entering one, being locked in one with an uncertain fate hanging above his head, and by dangerous, merciless killers, was purely frightening.

However, no matter how much it scared him, he was being forced into it nonetheless. The boys were separated from the girls, the former staying in one cell while the latter stayed in the other, both cells separated by the same metal bars that locked them in.

There were noises and sounds of objections as the managers were being grabbed and shoved into the space, but otherwise, it was an unavoidable result.

They were trapped.

They’d been left alone by the time the last of them were in, and the cell door was shut closed and locked. The room was dark, the only source of light being the tiny window directly underneath the roof, an old net its only protection against the elements of the outside world.

There was a moment of quiet as everyone stayed still, no one saying anything for a while, as if they were afraid to break the rested silence. It was until a loud whine pierced through the thick muteness, followed by a choked cry, that voices begun to fill the space.

Yachi’s sobs were loud and wretched, her breaths labored and wavered, with no lucid words shoved in between her moans to define the cause of her sorrow. Although, it didn’t need to be spelt out loud. She was obviously, miserably terrified. The situation they had all seemed to suddenly find themselves in was foreign, it was frightening. Terrifying. No one had prepared them for this kind of circumstance, because no one ever thought or imagined they would ever find themselves in it.

Kidnapped and trapped by criminals, with no certainty of escape.

How did their lives take such a turn?

Hinata felt the tears push at his own eyes, the sound of Yachi’s sobs being muffled by Kiyoko, who had most likely pulled her into a hug, being the only thing that motivated the single tear dropping down his chin. He couldn’t help the thoughts and memories that swirled into his head. He thought of his family, and his friends, and all the people he’d met over the course of his volleyball playing days, and of how he might never get to see them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! You're welcome to leave more kudos and comments as encouragement or criticism (but only the constructive kind). I also have a tumblr, @fanfictionbystar, so you can check that out if you like. I post stuff like updates and excerpts of my WIP's, and I also do moodboards and anime memes from time to time.
> 
> See ya in a few!


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The volleyball players ponder their situation. Inventory is taken, and something is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for waiting on my sorry ass. I hadn't planned to wait this long to post, but you know, life happens...

**18:01**

SUGA cursed whatever event had occurred in his past lives, cursed whatever deity he’d ever bothered to pray to, and cursed every wrong turn he’d taken before then, that had led him, his friends, and his team to where they were now.

It had just been a single minute into Yachi’s crying, a single minute into their stay, and he could already feel himself lose his mind. The cell room had no particular smell or scent, the musty air surrounding them being the only thing he could make sense of. There was lots of dust, enough to nauseate him, and the cobwebs and gathering heat didn’t help at all to quell his growing weariness.

“Shit.” He heard Tanaka cuss, falling back against the wall and letting his head rest against the rough, stony surface. Daichi turned to him, brows furrowed in obvious concern, mouth twisted like there were words on the tip of his tongue that refused to spew out. “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” The loud thump of the wall being hit rang with every cuss, his voice cracking as each word sounded, all respectively more shaken than the last.

“_Shit_—!”

“Tanaka…” Suga found himself suspending the spiker’s detrimental actions, concern running through upon hearing tiny crumbles of debris hit the ground as the wall was continuously beat. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

A loud thump against the wall echoed once more, before a short period of silence followed. The belligerent spiker heaved a loud sigh, then paused, the sight of the second year halting his self-harming gave Suga a little reprieve. In the deep, dark silence, he could hear a sniff resonate, accompanied by small, hitched breaths coming from his left. The room was terribly dim, but he could make out Hinata crouched in a corner, his shoulders trembling as his face buried itself in between his legs. His empathetic nature, at that moment, outshone his need to curse at the world, and instead compelled him to tend to the short, frightened first year.

His hand rested softly against his wet, sweaty back, the contact doing little to cease the trembling and crying. The redhead however, peered up, his usually bright, light brown eyes were dimmed, filled with fear and tears and a deep distress—and they were peering right into Suga. It was a look unbefitting of the labelled ‘sunshine child’ of the team, and he wanted nothing more than to rid his face of such an expression.

On instinct, he brought Hinata closer to him, hugging his face to his chest, and letting him cry as much as he wanted, his small sobs resonating against him, making him want to protect him more than what he couldn’t. The thought that he couldn’t do that, or anything useful to alleviate the situation, made his chest constrict with an aching helplessness.

“What do you think they want with us…?” Hinata had sobbed into his shirt, small patches of tears joining the sweat that dampened his clothes. Suga shook his head, truly at a loss of what to say to answer his question. He was just as miffed as everyone else.

“Tsukishima,” Suga called out, turning his head and catching sight of the tall blonde, who was busy trying to tend to his best friend, a similar helplessness etching itself across his features. He’d looked up from his position, staring right at Suga, fear and anger at the situation swirling in the depths of his amber orbs. He tried to ignore the tightness of his quickly constricting chest. “… How is Yamaguchi?”

“Still unconscious.” His answer was straight and direct.

“And you?”

“… Dandy,” Tsukishima replied sardonically, then seemingly rolled his eyes, although he found it hard to be annoyed with the first year at the sarcastic response. If the blond needed to act more sarcastic than his usual self as some form of coping mechanism, then he was the last person in the place to judge anyone. His go-to tactic when the feeling of helplessness usually overwhelmed him was to after all, ‘mother everybody’ as Daichi had once put it.

“How about you Kageyama?” he asked into the small space, his hold on Hinata loosening as the ginger-haired male slowly rose from where he’d buried his head against him.

_Taking inventory on everyone’s current status and state of health felt like the only useful thing he could do now._

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, not too far from him. From what he could tell, he was the one squished between Ennoshita and Daichi, and had his chin resting atop his knees. His blank eyes ostensibly staring out at nothing, peering outside the cages that had them trapped.

“Yachi?”

“I-I-I’m fine…” She sniffed, still snuggled up next to Kiyoko, whose arms surrounded her, the head manager’s hand rubbing the side of her arm in a soothing back and forth motion.

“Tanaka? Are you okay?”

“Good.” His voice was a bit shaky, but otherwise, sounded stable. _Good. It was good enough_.

“Nishinoya.”

“Angry…” he huffed, arms folded as he glared outside the cage, as if willing one of the men to come back so he could punch them in the face. Suga silently prayed that wouldn’t be the case should that happen. He however released a sigh at his reply, mostly thankful their typically uplifting libero didn’t sound the least despondent in any form.

“Ennoshita?” His eyes peered back to Kageyama’s spot, finding their current captain-in-training crouched down by the wall.

As always, his voice was calm, despite the unease that rested in his overall posture. “I’m fine.”

“Good…” He breathed, his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip as he counted the remaining of his teammates. “… Kinnoshita, how are you?”

He waited patiently, expecting the quiet voice of their next second year player, but was astonished to be met with deafening silence. Suga peered around the dark cell, once, twice, vigilantly looking for a shade of cut short light hair and wide brown eyes. He found neither.

“Kinnoshita?” he tried again, his stomach sinking further down at the silence. Everyone’s attention seemed to be up and alert now, their gazes moving this way and that, looking for the face of their number 7 player in the midst of their disposition. His gaze travelled over each individual face of the people in the cell, and after he’d counted each head over thirteen times, he figured that the second year was apparently, alarmingly absent.

“Where the hell is Kinnoshita?” He heard Nishinoya growl, his eyes dangerously frantic and frenzied. A state of confusion and rising unease settled over the temperature of the room. He could feel the pressure, further and further constricting his chest.

“I don’t know,” Narita, sat at the far corner, mumbled out in vain reply, tone bordering on worry.

“Do you mean he… left?” Suga bit his lip worriedly, looking around once more. It didn’t do any good. “He was on the bus wasn’t he?”

“He could have escaped.”

“What? How?” Hinata, who’d quickly gone out of his slump turned to Tsukishima, the one that gave the previous notion, eyes wide with flickering curiosity. “How could he have escaped?”

“Maybe he slinked away while no one was looking?” Ennoshita suggested.

“Yeah…” Hinata muttered and put a hand to his chin, his countenance contorted like he was currently in thought. “When Bandana-san had gone to yell at Tsukishima, the place he’d been guarding was empty.” His eyes suddenly lighted up with realization, and he looked up, peering brightly at everyone as instant awareness seemed to hit him like a brick. “Maybe no one noticed him leave!”

“Hey, shut up.” Tsukishima shushed, ignoring the offended gawk at the sudden command. “If those armed brutes hear that, they might go back and get him. Possibly hurt him. And if that happens…”

“If that happens,” Daichi continued, voice clear, yet quiet. “We might lose our only hope of ever being rescued.” The team went silent at that—well, more silent than they might have already been—only the sounds of quiet breathing filling the space of stillness. Suga, after a second, released a sigh and leaned back, allowing his body to rest against the crusty wall, the side of his right shoulder touching Daichi’s left.

So much for inventory.

“… So,” Daichi’s voice, once more, filled the silence, picking up from where he’d left off. “Besides Kinnoshita, and Yamaguchi… are we all okay? No one else is injured?”

Conjoined mumbles and mutters of assurances rang out, and he felt the team captain’s shoulder’s slump in relief. At least it was one less problem to worry about—besides the uncertain fate currently hanging over their heads. Though after a beat of silence was about to settle, someone’s voice spoke up, catching Suga’s attention.

“Um… actually…” It was Kageyama, his cadence lowered considerably from his hunched over position against the wall. “I saw him leave.” At Suga’s widened eyes and raised eyebrows, he continued, deciding to elaborate further. “I was in front of him. He’d ducked behind a tree when no one was looking.”

Someone huffed, although it sounded amused.

“S-Seriously?!” Daichi exclaimed, expressing genuine surprise and sounding as shocked—although more concerned—as everyone else. Just as Kageyama might have opened his mouth to respond, boisterous noise erupted from the other side of the cell, startling him from the hard-hitting surprise.

“That’s our Kinnoshita!” Nishinoya, voice more animated than his previous countenance, had laughed out loud, his amazed grin clearly noticeable even in the dimness of the cell. “Braver than all of us combined!”

“Bet he’s gonna take all the glory to himself! Sly bastard!” Tanaka—as expected—laughed alongside him, while Daichi, although tried to scold them for their racket, seemed more amused than anything else.

Just as Tanaka was about to say something else, his hands poised at his sides, and his grin wide, the door to the cell room opened up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!. And if you noticed, I edited a few stuff, so now there are time stamps at the beginning of the chapters (they were originally supposed to be there. My forgetful ass just forgot.) You're welcome to check out my blog on tumblr @fanfictionbystar


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing off from where we stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. Shit...
> 
> I'm so sorry I've been gone for so long... (omg I hate life sometimes.) But I've been trying get ready and settle into college for the past months, and the past few weeks have been stressful af. 
> 
> Anywho, I'm a bit free for now, so here's this. Sorry if it's a bit short (I'm still busy). But Enjoy!

**18:15**

TANAKA watched warily, flinching as a sheen of light flooded dimly into the room, illuminating only the area around the open door as a man walked in, and brought whatever moment of normalcy they’d been having to a halt.

He could hear the anxious shift of his teammates as footsteps resonated through the choking silence, and despite the fear, the apprehension that gripped each and every one of the helpless hearts in the room, he felt a deep growl conjure up in his chest, a protective need overruling every other thought. _Bastards. They were going to pay_.

“How are we enjoying our stay?” Though the lighting was unclear, he could recognize the voice, and the shag of deep maroon hair that rested upon their shoulders. The leader of the gang walked close to their cage, and stood a few meters away from the cell, a sly grin plastered on his face. Tanaka glared at him hatefully, letting the deep contempt cluster beneath till it _burned_ behind his eyes.

How dare they take a bunch of kids? Threaten his teammates? Hurt his kouhai? How could they point their guns at them, and then smile like freaks enjoying a circus show?

Beside him, he could hear Nishinoya growl, obviously equally as aggravated and annoyed.

Behind the leader, two other people followed. Namely the Driver, and the Eye patch guy. He felt a little relieved, seeing that the aggressive manic, and the silently dangerous looking Smoker weren’t currently present. Those two seemed the most likely to hurt them without remorse.

“Is it ready?” The Leader turned slightly, asking the men standing at his back. There was a quick grunt given as reply, the team looking on with different levels of confusion as one of the hijackers seemed to put something atop a tripod, realization setting in as a single red light appeared in the deep darkness. _They were being recorded_. He heard more shifts, a few of his teammates most likely trying to position themselves so they weren’t seen in the view of the camera. If their families saw what was happening to them, they would be dreadfully worried. His sister would be dreadfully worried.

And that was the furthest thing from what he wanted.

“Sit pretty now,” The Leader chuckled, and Tanaka had never wanted to punch someone so badly. This guy just took the cake. “This will only take a while.” After that, he took several steps back, and left to position himself behind the camera, the other two going to the front, and stopping right in front of their cells. They were ordered to be silent, even though no one felt like talking at that moment. Beside him, Suga’s finger tapped against the floor, his eyes narrowed—but not in contempt. It seemed like a nervous habit condoned probably out of anxiety.

“Good evening, Japanese government.” He greeted to apparently no one. At the start of the address, someone behind cussed out quietly, followed by more anxious shifting and troubled countenances. And the second year could understand their plight. They were going to send a video to the Japanese government. A video of kidnapped, helpless children to the people who basically controlled the entire country itself. This was so much, _very much_ bigger than them.

He felt the pulse of his heart quicken.

Behind the camera, the man smiled. No, _grinned_.

He was reveling on their fear. And he was _enjoying_ it.

“We have fourteen kids with us, and two dead adults. Two of the kids are females.” Tanaka was glad they didn’t have the sense to recount the number of kids they presently had with them. He continued to hold on to the hope that Kinoshita’s little stunt would end up being their saving grace. That if they held on for a little while longer, they would make it out alive and in one piece.

The Leader’s next set of words brought an abrupt halt to every other form of optimism running through his mind.

“For every twelve hours that pass,” he started, his voice becoming more and more excited as he continued. There was a purely sadistic glint in his eyes as he spoke his next set of words. “One of them dies. And for every twenty-four, we rape one of the girls.” There was an audible gasp. Actually, there were several, and a small, pitiful whine that sounded like a ‘No…’ had his anger growing. “I do strongly advise that you guys comply with our demands, before we run out of kids to kill. I have a friend whose been wanting to test out his brand-new gun. You have six days to respond to each of our requests. Please, do so quickly. The time starts… now.”

After that, the red light dimmed, and the shoot ended.

Nothing more was said until the Leader, and the two others left the room, leaving them alone. It only took a brief, silent moment, before a high-pitched whine penetrated through the quiet, and the sound of muffled sobs followed.

“Oh God… we’re going to die…” Someone, Narita it seemed, mumbled out miserably clutching his head in his hand while Yachi’s quiet crying rang through. “We’re going to die…”

“Hey, stop that.” Daichi bit out, his voice obviously panicked despite trying to sound firm and in control. “We’re not—”

“Didn’t you hear them? He’s gonna kill us all!”

“We have to hang on to the hope that we’ll be rescued.”

“But Daichi-san…” Tsukishima’s voice was quiet and despite not sounding as frightened, though his tone shook on every word. Everyone’s attention fixated on him then. “… No one knows where we are. And Bandana-san and Smoker-san weren’t here. They may have noticed it and gone out to look for him…”

Little flecks of hope could be seen dimmed out as realization of the inevitable begun to settle.

“We might not—”

“Hey, hey. Enough with that talk about not being rescued.” Tanaka said suddenly, willing to put an end to the hopeless misery that wished to consume them. _If he could save them, just by a little. _“We gotta trust our boy Kinoshita!”

“Right! Right! We’re gonna be saved! You’ll see.” Noya piped in, understanding his need to uplift their spirits and joining in. _If he could save them, just by a little… he wouldn’t let their spirit’s break_. “And before then, we’re going to do our best to protect you guys. Believe in your senpai, would ya?!” he said this, and with the most confident voice Tanaka had ever heard him muster, his cadence unwavering, and the strength of his spirit could be felt through the entire room.

His friend really was the coolest.

“Noya-san… there you go, sounding cool again.” Suga laughed, although there was a slight tease to his voice. Daichi joined in.

“What are we going to do without Karasuno’s guardian deity?”

“Noya-san’s amazing…” Hinata whispered from beside Suga, eyes bright as he looked at his unwavering senior. His friend only seemed to bask in the praise, laughing loudly as if this was any other situation where his words and confidence could lift spirits, like on the volleyball court. It seemed the whimpers from their neighboring cell died down, and besides the lonely, tired sighs, all was quiet.

Outside, from what he could see from the small window at the very top of the wall, the sky seemed to be dimming, although he was pretty sure it wasn’t yet time for the evening to set in. Low whistles of air could be heard bellowing outside, the wind escaping into the room and cooling the formerly hot air. A drop of water fell on the floor.

Shit. Of all the times it needed to rain.

Next to him, Suga began hugging himself, rubbing the side his arms continuously. “Think it wants to pour?”

“Probably…” Daichi replied, copying Suga’s self-warming motions and releasing a chilled breath.

On his other side, Noya blew out a huff of air just as the winds picked up speed, his hands clutching his sleeveless arms. Like the rest of them, he hadn’t brought himself a jacket, as they hadn’t exactly thought of the possibility of getting kidnapped and held hostage by possible terrorists in an inevitable rainstorm. Tanaka was sure most of them might have, but their bags were still in the bus, along with the rest of their belongings.

From what he could observe, only three people currently had their jackets on, namely Kiyoko, Kageyama, and Asahi—the latter whom had been quiet and far from talkative for a copious amount of time. He’d been hunched into himself in a corner, head buried in his folded arms, probably trying not to have a panic attack about the entire situation.

Noya seemed to have noticed as well, because he soon joined the spot beside him, and shuffled closer so their bodies were touching, the shorter saying nothing to him, as if nothing needed to be said—as if just the knowledge that he was there, was enough. As the minutes passed, and the wind continued to blow, the sky continually darkened, cold seeping gradually into the cells until people were huddled up against one another, seeking bodily warmth and relief from the gradually increasing cold.

Hinata had saddled up next to Kageyama and Ennoshita, the first-year setter seemingly not unbothered by the shorter’s nearness, no matter how much he glared at the redhead’s close proximity, even shuffling closer and leaning into their touch when a bone biting cold wind blew into the room.

“Hey…” The redhead whispered after a moment of silence had settled, and most of them were about slowly drifting off from reality, his voice catching the attention of everyone in the cell. The dimness had turned into an almost blinding darkness that barely allowed them see the faces of their closest neighbor. “… Since we didn’t show up at the training camp… do you think they might look for us?”

“It’s very possible, yes,” Daichi replied, somewhere not far from him, his body cozied up against Suga. “It’s not like they’d forget we were supposed to show up.” He let out an amused breath a second after. “I can imagine the amount of diving drills we would have done by now.”

“Well,” Suga joined in. “Frankly speaking, I’d rather do a hundred of those than be stuck here.”

“True, true…” He sighed, and shuffling could be heard coming from their direction. Soft snores were heard breathing into the silence that followed, indicating someone was asleep. Tanaka considered following suite, but there was no way he could find himself falling asleep when there was this looming threat hanging over their heads. He strictly believed in his teammate, and believed in his friend. He believed that they were going to be rescued from this mess, one way or the other.

It was only a matter of time, after all.

They just had to be patient.

But time was the only thing they didn’t have.

Behind him, he could hear someone’s quiet mumbles, more shifting, before Tsukishima’s voice rang out in the still quiet.

“Yamaguchi’s awake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are highly appreicated!


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what's happening to Kinoshita?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling kinda depressed today... (some certain manga leaks and a few other things attributed to my recent mood) but I'm not obliged to spoil what the manga was or what it was about (altho if you don't want any hint of a spoiler, please stay away from the chapter end notes). Anyway, thanks for all your support! Have this chapter even though I'm still really busy with college and stuff. Comments and kudos are highly appreciated.

**18: 22**

YAMAGUCHI was floating in an abyss.

The air around him felt tense, his vision and mind hazy as he tried to failingly put his thoughts together. His lips and throat felt dry, tasteless and sticky like sandpaper. He wanted nothing more than to rid his body of the aggravating, mind-numbing sensation of overwhelming heat. When he’d opened his eyes, his team, his friends, were all in the bus, Takeda-sensei and Coach upfront, talking, their words inaudible to him, like trying to hear through a wad of cotton balls.

Beside him, Tsukki was sleeping, the usual SONY headphones over his ears in its typical fashion. His head leaned against the glass while he slept, as well as the rest of the team, and he took his time to admire the calm ambience of the bus as it was. There were no guns.

_Had it all been a dream? A horrible nightmare?_

Yamaguchi still felt like he was floating.

It had only taken a second. A blink. And the previously calm visage began to fade quickly. Soon enough, his sensei and coach were lying dead on the floor, and faceless, voiceless bodies roamed the bus, gunfire shooting across the space and nailing each of his teammates in the head. Yamaguchi had been panicking, but he seemed to be the only one. His team all looked to be rather unaware of the lethal danger steadily abolishing each of them. Even Tsukki, when he’d tried to shake him awake, continued to sleep, his calm form remaining just as it was until a bullet was nailed into his head.

Blood spurted into his eyes.

And Yamaguchi screamed.

When next he’d opened his eyes, he was met with the dimmest darkness, his eyes only seeing black for the first disarrayed moments of his awakening, sharp intakes of breaths leaving and entering him in quick, successive pants. A hand was at his shoulder, another at his back, a third on his head. Voices spoke all at once, jumbled and muddled, like he was on the other side of a thick glass, and everyone else was speaking from the other end.

Soon enough, his eyes begun to adjust, his head clear, and the voices quietened. He rubbed at his eyes, discomforted by the sweat and dust that caked his body, and peered into the darkness. Tsukki was sat in front of him, his hand on his shoulder. His eyes looked so concerned, and so relieved. What happened?

“… Tsukki…?” he mumbled, the dryness of his voice and throat disturbing him. He felt awfully thirsty. Beside him, he could spot Suga, his own eyes wide and soft with his typical devoted concern, the back of his hand against his head was warm, but not uncomfortably so.

“Yamaguchi,” Suga spoke, smiling warmly. “We were so concerned. We’re glad you’re awake now.”

The freckled teen peered in mild confusion. _What was he talking about?_

“When you fainted, it was scary!” That was Hinata, his usually loud voice lessened in intensity. He blinked while staring at the redhead, looking equally as relived to see him awake. “Tsukishima even got all angry and defensive.”

“Shut up,” his best friend snapped, the usual annoyance lacking in ire. “They’re a bunch of dicks anyway.”

“But still, we don’t want you doing that again.” Daichi’s voice spoke up, his position, from what he could tell, behind Suga. He sounded as stern as always, his tone reprimanding. Yamaguchi wished he knew what they were talking about. “I know our situation is an unfortunate one, but we should do our best to survive. And by that, I mean _don’t _backtalk at them. Don’t throw insults. Don’t make them angry. And I’m talking to EVERYONE in here. Am I clear?”

Chorused mumbles of agreement rang out through the dark.

“Nishinoya…?” The captain glowered, reproaching in every sense as he turned his head to where he supposed the libero would be.

An annoyed huff met his wordless admonition. “Fine, fine! I know!”

“Okay then…” Suga muttered, breathing out a sigh. There was a moment of silence where it seemed his senior looked like he was fumbling around, quiet mutters escaping him, before he felt something being pushed against his lips, liquid hitting his mouth before retracting. “You must be thirsty right? Drink up.” He tipped his head, allowing water touch his tongue and pour down his throat, the feel refreshing and the feeling like the best thing he’d ever had in a _while_.

Suga only stopped a moment later, his thirst only semi-satisfied. He wanted—_needed_—more water, but Suga was keeping it away.

“Sorry Yamaguchi,” he apologized, seemingly sensing his need for more. “I have no idea if they’re even going to feed us, let alone, give us water,” Sugawara admitted, looking rather regretful. “This just happened to be a pouch I’d kept with me when we were on the bus, so I didn’t have to go back to my bag for a bottle. It felt a bit lazy, but it was convenient.” He laughed, but it wasn’t deep. “This is the last bit of sustenance we have though, so I guess, it counted for something.”

Yamaguchi let out a breath, swallowed and leaned back on the wall behind him. His head still felt fogged up. “Where are we…?” he asked, the disorientation not quite leaving him fully.

He felt a figure lean in beside him, Tsukki’s familiar scent was dull, but present. “We’re in a prison.” His answer was dry, and straight to the point as usual. Yamaguchi’s eyes widened at that. Outside, through the brick walls and the small window, the low whistles of the wind and oncoming rainstorm bellowed loudly.

“Prison?!” He sat up fully, whatever energy that had left him returning in a bout of fearful agitation. _How did they end up in prison for goodness sake? _“Why? Did we do something wrong?”

“No, Yamaguchi.” Tsukki stared concernedly at him, tone softer than usual, almost lacking its typical blandness. “Don’t you remember? We were… kidnapped…” His voice trailed off at the last word, and he could feel his best friend’s hand curling into a fist from where it lay beside him, his jaw clenched, eyes glaring at nothing but the space in front of him. “Shit…”

“Tsukki…?” It was Yamaguchi’s turn to frown, worry swimming into his own voice while he gazed at the blonde’s suddenly angry, shaken up form. His hand had gone to reach for his, but Tsukki pulled away, both his hands pressed against his eyes, like he was trying to push something—_his tears_—back.

“… We’ve been kidnapped…” he repeated, voice in a quiet whisper. He could hear his breaths come in and out in quiet, quickened inhalations; something he did when he was about to cry—which was _rare_—and tried to hold it in. Yamaguchi wanted to hug his friend. He felt like crying too.

Swallowing the urge to break out into saddened sobs at the reminder, memories flooding back momentarily, he cuddled next up to Tsukki, finally feeling the cold that swam in the air of the room, and appreciating the warmth of the body beside his. He felt the blonde reciprocate by shifting nearer to him. “What’s gonna happen to us?” Yamaguchi whispered, voice breaking pitifully as he tried to fight off his own tears. And failed.

“I don’t know. They said… they…” Tsukki broke off his sentence with a heavy, equally saddened sigh, biting his lower lip harshly. Another cuss broke out, and the anger and despondency of it had his stomach turning.

“It’ll be fine.” Suga interjected, as if sensing the tension, both his hands clasping their shoulders reassuringly. His eyes appeared serious, full of all the care he had for his teammates. “Remember Tsukishima, Yamaguchi. Kinoshita’s still out there. The police are still out there. People will figure out we’re missing. We don’t know how long it’ll take, but we’ll be fine.” He looked at the both of them straight in the eyes. “We have to be. Don’t give up hope.”

All Yamaguchi could reply with was a nod, holding on to the little hope, that somehow, his senior’s words would be just as true as they sounded.

~~`,`~~

KINOSHITA’s heart was beating out of balance in some form of uncontrollable arrhythmia, sweat irrelevant to the heat had lined his forehead, his entire body had stilled unnaturally on his spot behind the tree, not daring to make a single sound, or release a single breath for fear of being heard. Behind him, he could hear the loud, hostile brute yell aggressively, the sardonic quietness of another of the men, and the unassailable instructions of The Leader as he gave the order to continue moving. He hadn’t even known why the line had stopped, only that it had, and he was incredibly fucking _grateful_.

He’d seen an opportunity, and he’d taken it before the door could close shut.

Footsteps resumed their parole through the thicket of the forest, gradually receding till he could no longer hear anything besides the soft rustling of leaves and crawling forest animals. Nevertheless, he wanted to be careful. Because his heart still pounded, his nerves still racked, and the overwhelming fear of his actions lingered prominently.

_He still couldn’t believe he’d actually **done** that_. Kinnoshita hadn’t exactly planned on making an escape beforehand. It had just been a thought that had crossed his mind at that single moment in time. An impulsive decision. Spur-of-the-moment.

So, he waited.

He waited for minutes.

_Long, long minutes_.

Until he was certain he was truly alone, and his little stunt was a granted success—if only partially. But even when he’d peaked from behind the tree a dozen or so times, and saw that the scene was as clear as it could be, he was **scared**. He was afraid of moving from his rooted position, afraid that he’d be caught, and absolutely frightened at the prospect that his little stunt would cost him his life. His head swam with these thoughts, fear gripping his bones and immobilizing his movement.

It took another half-hour before he’d convinced his feet to move.

The heat continued to amass on his venture off to… somewhere, and the sweat that accumulated before started to become more annoying than uncomfortable. Walking forward in the direction he supposed they emerged from, he came across a rough pack of trees, each jumbled together as if forming a protective barrier before his exit. Kinnoshita’s head had whipped from side to side, observing the path, trying to remember if they’d even passed through this exact direction before, and coming to the sudden conclusion that not only did he not know what to do, he also didn’t know where to go.

That, and it was extremely **_hot_**.

The environment of the forest was awfully, dreadfully stuffy, and the congested trees and bunched up greenery made him feel like he was being choked. Every few seconds, a bug would wiz past his ear or land on his face or legs, and once in a while, he’d hear bushes and trees rustle. Kinnoshita tried to convince himself they were just lizards or little animals hiding and camouflaging amongst the forestry, but then he thought of snakes and tarantulas, and now thinking of the little rustles made him flinch more than when he hadn’t been thinking of them.

And then there was the fact that he also had to think of other considerations as well.

Like how he had to find help and rescue his teammates.

He felt selfish when thinking he wished someone strong and brave like Noya, or Daichi or really, anyone else would be in his place, while he was with his friends. Because truthfully, he had no idea what to actually _do_. The forest was wide, and even when he thought he was going on the right path, trying to follow the same way they’d been coming through, he was sure he was somehow getting himself lost. The thought of being stranded, and alone… and having to sleep exposed to dangers of nocturnal creatures and the weltering cold in the dead of the night had him shaken to the core.

He needed to move fast.

_But God, he had no idea what he was doing…_

An hour had passed by as quickly as a snail in traffic, grueling seconds occupied by the taxing exercise of walking through bushes and vines, warding of bugs and pests, the demanding drills that pulled at his exhaustion and tugged on his resolve, sweat gathering, piling underneath his arms and soaking his forehead so a thick sheen of sweat blanketed itself on his face.

Those TV shows about finding peace and oneness with the wild of forestry was complete and utter _bullshit_.

It was probably only several minutes in, maybe another hour or two, his feet aching with the physical exertion of overwork, his mouth dry and lips cracked from dehydration, but he’d managed to reach a clearing behind some of the older looking trees at the innards of the forest, the path opening up and spreading to other similar looking itineraries. He was certain they’d passed here… at some point. But he wasn’t even half sure. He only remembered feeling dazed and fogged with fear and exhaustion, directional memories too blanked out or nearly non-existent to be useful.

If only he had some kind of compass, or a certain direction to actually head to… like the training camp being held on the mountain.

Oh, wait.

_The mountain._ Understanding sank in, as he realized that the directional compass he’d been looking for had been right within his vicinity the entire time. The structure was certainly big enough to be seen even from a distance. But even when staring up ahead, or trying to, it seemed like an impossible feat, seeing as how the trees surrounding him were far too tall to look over, and the mountain they were supposed to head to was big, but wasn’t as tall as he wished it could be.

Kinoshita knew he’d have to look for higher ground—or supposedly climb a tree—but the energy he lacked currently would barely carry him another few steps. The kidnappers had made them walk for hours before he’d snuck off, and during those long amounts of hours, they hadn’t been given a chance to rest or catch their breaths even for the smallest of moments. He cursed them for that now.

Screw that, he cursed them for everything.

_For kidnapping them… for killing their coach… their sensei_…

Stopping at an oddly smoother looking tree, its trunk a lighter shade of brown than the rest of the ebony colored stems, he leaned against it, letting his back slide down roughly until his backside found the grassy, loamy, floor, finally feeling the ache in his feet from walking without catching a break.

He leaned his head back, looking up at the adjacent tree, arms folded atop the knees he’d drawn to his chest. Dark-green leaves swerved with a bit of wind, stranded bits of dust climbing up into the air with the light breezy brush. The sun was still out, and in full blast, but looking up ahead, he could spot the looming promises of a rainstorm in the form of a dark cloud approaching not too far away. The speed of the wind was but a whisper against his skin.

Well… he _had _been complaining about the heat earlier on,

_But of all the times it wanted to rain…_

Kinoshita grumbled, glaring up at the sky, wishing for the clouds to redirect their path away from his current position. If a rainstorm should hit him then, it would slow his progression—not to mention possibly make him sick. As far as he was concerned, there was nobody out so deep into the forest except for him. Getting stuck in the rain without shelter was going to be a major problem.

Looking left, then right, he stood up, not bothering to dust the dirt and sand off his clothes, determined to find shelter before the threat of the rainfall struck.

He got stuck in the rain.

It wouldn’t have happened if he’d found the bus... Or some conveniently placed cave or building. That would have been categorically helpful. But yet here he was, trudging through the wet woods in soaked clothes and muddy shoes. Without shelter. Without safety or warmth or company.

It had started with him taking the path on his right, which hadn’t been such a great idea as it had only led to more thickly condensed trees, vines and bushes and thorns closely packed together, a suffocating sight, really. And the path on his left hadn’t been any better. His only remaining options had been to either go back and redirect his path from his checkpoint, or go forward and continue on… Although, forward hadn’t also looked like such a convincing idea, what with all the massive looking vineyards that resembled snakes hanging off the trees and slithering on its branches, his paranoia forming predatory eyes watching carefully from a distance as if waiting for the right moment to devour him.

From there, the wind had begun to bellow more loudly, uneven whistles singing in his ear, blowing dust and sand several directions into his eyes. Something huge had flown onto his face, and he’d have mistaken it for a big, dry leaf if not for the creeping, crawling sensation he’d felt on top his skin, over his chin and inching towards his ear.

“GAHH!” Panic overwhelmed him, flinging his hand towards the direction of his ear concurrently ridding his face of the arthropod, but however slapping himself in the process. His ears had rung from the force of his own slap, temporarily disorienting his sense of direction, forcing him to stagger and promptly run straight into a tree.

The rough, scratchy surface had injured his forehead upon impact, causing small cat-like scratches to form on his skin. The pain wasn’t mind-blowingly throbbing, but it ached all the same, and essentially irritated him. He’d bumped into a tree of all things… _like some comic relief_.

He could bet Daichi would never have done that.

Thunder had rumbled and struck up ahead, the lightning acting as the brief forewarning to the oncoming storm about to darken the skies. It hadn’t taken long before the wind began to blow and bellow more loudly, trees rustling and bending against the force of the wind, and the light ahead continually dimming. When the first drop of water landed against his cheek, Kinoshita had realized he was actually screwed.

Which brings him to where he currently was.

As the breeze of the wind intensified, tiny droplets descended from the sky, worsened and exacerbated by the gale further and further escalating as the storm approached. The bright scorching sun had disappeared behind the covers of the clouds, its intensity diminishing as the passing storm raged the skies. He needed to find shelter. _Any shelter_ would do. But his sense of direction was once more twisted and out of focus, and he’d soon found himself running in about any open path that came his immediate way. His foot slipped countless times on soaked patches of mud, and several times he’d been scratched and scraped by the stems of passing trees and thwarting bushes. As the little droplets of rain further intensified into a downpour, his sight had become blaringly unclear, blurred and disoriented by the blinding monsoon of wind and water.

_He wished he had an umbrella—he wished he had **something**_—

His foot had slipped on another patch of mud, and with the slip came a rush of wind and crippling hopelessness as his body became one with gravity, sending him tumbling downwards and into the wet, murky ground, his hands slipping from when he’d tried to break the fall, causing his face to slam against the filth with a painful _smack_.

From then, the rain only worsened.

Kinoshita’s nose throbbed painfully as he struggled to get up from where his face had found purchase among the muddy floors for what had to be the fifth time, running his tongue over his teeth, and hastily proceeding to spit out the wad of mud invading his mouth. He coughed as one got dislodged in his throat, the small gob getting lost in the swarm of consuming rain, mixing up with the remains of the mud and leaves and grass that was the forest floor. Dirt caked itself in his nails from when he’d repeatedly scraped the, against the ground, staining his face and hair and clothes. His legs shook as he attempted to stand from the floor. He’d fallen way too many times.

He couldn’t count the number of minutes or hours he’d now left himself in the rain, but he felt sick and nauseous, tired to the point he didn’t even see the purpose of continuing forward for another dreaded minute.

Finding support by a tree, he leaned against the tall, rough stem, touching a finger to his noise and feeling immense relief when he found it wasn’t broken. Yet.

Kinoshita was thriving on luck at this point, and it was saying much given his current disposition. He still had to look for shelter. He wasn’t going to last if he remained in the middle of the storm.

That, mixed with every other thought of finding help, making it out alive, and reuniting with his teammates made the slowly rising exhaustion creep back in, gradually replacing the cold anxiety and gripping fear that formerly locked his focus.

_Ah…_ It was kind of pointless, wasn’t it? How long had he been wondering, anyway? _There was no way he’d find shelter_. Not in this endless pathway of forestry. Not in the unforgiving storm, or the slowly creeping awareness of his current solitude constantly itching at the back of his mind.

_But if he didn’t keep moving, he’d just remain there, stuck and trembling from the cold_.

At that moment, for the nth time, he really, _really_ wished he was someone else. He’d never wished before to be someone other than himself, but if he was someone brave and determined, like Noya. Or cool and dauntless like Daichi. Or calm and resolute like Ennoshita… someone who at least always had a _plan_. If he wasn’t him. Then maybe…

_Maybe he wouldn’t feel like whatever he was doing was so fruitless_.

Maybe the fear that his escape would be in vain won’t feel so incapacitating. That when they found him, it wouldn’t be in a lifeless heap, buried with the mud and remains of the passing storm.

His hands moved to his arms, clutching and hugging himself in an attempt to shield his body away from the cold, compressing thoughts and rain. The drops still touched him, and the wind still made him shiver in his clothes, but he was considerably less wet hiding under the leaves of the trees.

Well, it wasn’t like he’d made much progress trying to walk around in a rainstorm.

He might as well, wait it out somewhere.

So, he further leaned against the tree, slowly lowering himself till his behind touched against the wet ground, drawing his knees in and wrapping his arms around them, trying to gather as much warmth as he could, even in the middle of the tempest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm going to cry about the latest leaks of the newest haikyuu!! chapter for a few days...


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's late in the night as the captain mulls over their situation. The teams at the training camp sense something is wrong when Karasuno doesn't arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oml I'm super sorry I haven't posted anything in a while! It's been... what? Over a week? I've just been really busy with my midterms and classes and shit like that that I haven't been able to set a proper schedule as of yet. I'll try my best though! (Maybe weekly on Saturdays or Sundays). Anyway, hope you enjoy!

DAICHI’s eyes had begun drooping hours ago.

The rainstorm had turned into a downpour within minutes, and he could feel the exhaustion finally creep in, sinking into tired bones and wary muscle. Almost like a slow, gradual descent, his body could be felt shutting down, an effort to replenish the energy he’d been forced to consume during their ‘stroll’ towards the cabin they were now trapped in.

_Honestly_. His fingers tapped against the floor as he sighed for the umpteenth time, his tired eyes glancing over each head present in the cell, taking account of the positions of his teammates and kouhai, also for the umpteenth time. _He was so bored_.

“Hey, captain,” Suga’s calm voice permeated through the thick silence of the dark room, and soon enough he felt a presence beside him, shoulders less dense in frame leaning against his. “What’s on your mind?”

And he could guess his vice-captain was just as bored, if not by the jaded look in his eyes, then the way he constantly rocked his head back and forth in an incessant motion as if stuck in a self-induced trance was enough to tell. Deciding he basically had nothing better to do than to engage his thoughts elsewhere—away from the threats of the death and torture looming over their heads like a sickle waiting to be dropped—he cleared his throat and shifted his position as best as he could. The ground was uncomfortable and the place was cramped, he couldn’t exactly do much.

“Would you believe it if I said volleyball?”

At that, Suga chuckles, small humored breaths escaping his lips. “I’d be worried if you didn’t,” he replies. The sound of silent snoring echoed faintly from somewhere within the cell. “Sometimes you can be a bit of a volleyball idiot.”

“Should I be offended?” Daichi smiles, and Suga shrugs in return.

“Maybe not.”

Daichi releases a hum, and allows the silence to linger between them for a moment, enough for it to be comfortable without permitting the tenseness to fester for as long as needed. Laughter resonated faintly from the other room, the voices of the men muffled through thick walls and metallic doors.

A brief flash of light brightens the cell, and thunder strikes, rumbling through the skies.

“Kinoshita’s out there,” Suga murmurs, and Daichi flips his gaze to stare at the other, the silver-haired male’s eyes transfixed on the tiny window on the wall. “In the rain. Do you think…?” The question goes unfinished, and Daichi prefers he’d leave it that way. Uncertainties such as _‘Do you think he’s cold and alone?’ ‘What if he’s scared?’ ‘Do you think he’ll find a way to rescue us?’_ can go just one way on the venture to mental deprecation.

And in Daichi’s honest opinion, he could only do so much to hold on to the single thread of hope that kept him from spiraling away from reason. Maybe they’d all make it out unscathed, and no one would have to get hurt. Maybe help was on its way right now, or maybe if he closed his eyes and reopened them, he’d be back on the bus, waking up from what had to be a horrible nightmare.

Maybe this was all an elaborate prank, and seconds from now—

Thunder clapped the skies, sharp and shrill and piercing enough to jerk Kageyama awake.

The first-year setter blinked and went back to sleep seconds later.

Maybe he was only fooling himself.

“Daichi…” the male beside him murmurs, and he could see Suga’s finger pointing in the direction of the door. Light, orange and dim and faint peeked from underneath the base of the door, and casted shadows in the shape of lone pair of footsteps formed in the dull lighting. Suga’s eyes spoke several kinds of concern and apprehension as the feet stayed by the door for a moment, before the sounds of jingling keys and turning locks followed and permeated the pensive silence.

Rusted hinges protested as the old, metal door was swung open, startling some of the sleeping students awake and alert.

The way expressions shifted and bodies squirmed was enough to speak numbers of the apprehension that had settled over everyone’s faces. With each footstep that echoed through the small space, the anxiety that permeated the room increased, and along with it came the spikes of fear that ran down every nerve of his body. Daichi knew it certainly wasn’t even up to twelve hours yet, and yet the sense of foreboding doom pressed upon him with a pressure so overwhelming he felt he would run out of oxygen.

“Ah…” The lighting and current weather made it hard to make out the faces in the room, but he recognized the bored drawl of the voice as the Eye patch guy. Daichi hadn’t been able to pick up much from him, but he was certainly one of the least friendly of the group. “Were y’all asleep? How boring…” He could make out the sounds of air blowing over the rim of a bottle, followed by the loud gulps of liquid being chugged down at once. “Dang. Was hoping to have some fun… too dark, y’know?”

The footsteps stopped, the crunch of sand and dirt coming to a halt right beside the cell. Right beside him.

“Hey…” The guy was standing, leaning against the bars with a wine bottle in hand. Daichi shifted away as much as the space would allow. “You guys are way too quiet… so boring…” There was a pause, more gulping, then a sigh. “One of you should at least… try n’ escape, y’know? Would make choosing who we’re gonna kill first _way _easier.”

The quiet that rested above them was tense now, the words of the man slowly sinking in. Someone whimpered. Someone coughed. The man laughed.

“What?” He kicked his boot against the bars of the cell, the sharp sound resonating within his ears and lingering even when the echoes ceased. “Gotta show the government we’re serious n’ stuff… Can’t have ‘em thinking we’re full of shit. You understand, right?”

The male took a moment to take a swig of his bottle, before changing his position, crouching down so he was almost at eye level with the rest of them. Even in the dull lighting, he could make out the man’s extremely appalling features up close, and the singular eye unconcealed by the patch that spoke amounts of malicious intent.

“Hey, I’m bored. Let’s play a game,” he announced suddenly, dropping the glass bottle on the floor beside him and gripping the strong, metallic bars with his hands. “Whoever screams the loudest, gets to go first.”

And that was all the warning he’d gotten before his hand reached right through the bars of the cell, and grabbed onto a handful of matted, silver hair.

“Suga!”

A small, terrified yelp escaped the vice-captain as he was suddenly dragged towards the man, his head clanging against the bars hard enough to cause him to yelp again. Panic fell over the cell as the man gripped onto him, his other hand pulling out a sharp blade that reflected against the light escaping into the room.

Eye patch guy laughed, chuckle sinister and menacing in every sense. “Hah…? Is that your name? How nice,” the male snickered. “And your face is kinda pretty too…” He brought his knife closer, and Daichi wasn’t aware if he was either shaking or tense stiff from fear. He locked eyes with his vice-captain, and the absolute terror he saw swirling in the usually warm hazel was _freezing_. He was **terrified**, and he looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack as he struggled for escape.

“A shame I have to ruin it—”

“Oi!” Another voice boomed into the room all too suddenly, bringing whatever ominous atmosphere of impending ruin that befell the place to a halt. At the doorway, another male stood, his silhouette somewhat familiar although Daichi was way too frozen to bother recognizing it. “Boss wants you out here. And _yeah_, it’s _important_.”

“Aw…” Eye patch groaned, his knife falling away from where it had been about to slice open Suga’s face. “You’re always ruining my fun…”

The figure at the door only released an annoyed sigh, his arms shuffling so they folded against his chest. “_Now_.”

“Fine, fine!” the male relented, sadistic tone falling back to its former lazy drawl as he released his hold on the silver-haired figure and languidly rose up to his feet. “I get to come back when I’m done though.”

“Do whatever you want.”

And at that, the Eye patch guy left the room, dawdling behind the other male and leaving his wine bottle behind, the thick, metallic door shutting closed and once more encasing them in silence and a slowly brightening dimness. The fact that he’d left the bottle behind implied that the man meant to actually come back, and despite the fervent panic that laid in his being at the thought, his sole focus rested on the singular person currently holding his hand to his mouth as he crouched on the floor, breaths almost shallow enough for him to be hyperventilating.

“S-Suga…!”

“Suga-san!”

“A-a-are you okay?!”

Echoes of concern came from all corners as the team attempted to crowd him, worry etched into every expression and voice, effectively snapping Daichi out of his frozen state and moving him into action.

“Hey!” He was surprised his voice was as clear as it was, despite the fear he’d felt gripping his throat mere moments ago. “Don’t crowd him.” He gestured quietly for them to give their vice some semblance of space as he himself neared the male, careful to put a gentle hand on his back in an effort to ground him to the present.

“Suga… you still with us?”

It took a moment, but the male finally looked up, his breaths calming to a normal pace as he looked up into Daichi’s eyes. Slowly, he lowered his hand from his mouth, putting it against his chest as if to feel the tempo of his own heartbeat. “Yeah…” he nodded, and Daichi released a breath of relief at his positive response. “I’m okay… I’m fine.”

He could see the equal amounts of reprieve swarm everyone else’s expressions as they were given the unspoken cue, worried voices pitching in once more to fill the once, terse, choking silence.

“I’m glad,” Asahi sighed from his corner, countenance jaded and worn as he held his hand to his chest in a near-dramatic display of relief. “I thought I was about to die…”

“Don’t you mean Suga-san?” Hinata inquired, and the anxiety-ridden third year all but squawked at the pointed correction aimed directly at him.

“I-I meant of fear…! I thought my heart was going to stop!”

“Why are you the weakest one on the room?!”

“Noya!”

“Dammit ace! Get some backbone!”

Subtle, raucous laughter filled the air as Noya attempted to lecture the cowering third year, tension easing off their shoulders little by little, gradually until all that remained was the false sense of security they were forced to sell themselves into.

Although he could tell that none of it, none of the smiles and amusement and efforts of merriment reached their eyes.

Because even within the disguises of laughter and jokes, within the attempted distractions and half-hearted optimisms and struggles for the withering pieces of positivity, the lingering promises of pain to come still hung over the air, and not even the most impenetrable subconscious could ignore it.

~~`,`~~

KUROO looked at the time on his watch, the sound of his set-in alarm beeping incessantly as the clock now read a glaring 7:58, the sky dark and gym chilled from the rain, still with no signs of Karasuno or their bus arriving through the huge gates of the training camp center. On the court, the squeaks of sneakers and slams of volleyballs echoed through the wide space, the other teams taking over while most members of Nekoma took a break.

The other first years and some second years had ventured off to explore the huge building, claiming to look for ghosts and signs that it was haunted or some other crap. He hadn’t really been paying attention.

“Stray ball!” someone yelled from one of the courts, his hand instinctively reaching up to block the speeding volleyball from colliding against his face as he sent it flying elsewhere. A long whistle bellowed, declaring the end of the match for one of the teams. Complaints from the losing team rang through as the captain ordered for their flying falls, the image of the crow themed high school coming to mind immediately the slides of bodies sounded against the floorboards.

Without warning, someone had hooked their arm over his shoulder, leaning against him and emitting an excited hoot into his ear. Familiar strands of white and black came into view as he turned to view the Fukorodani captain grinning beside his face. “Hey Kuroo! Did you see my awesome spike just now?!”

“Not really,” he replied, much to the male’s annoyance. 

“Dammit Kuroo! It was really awesome too!” Bokuto whined, pouting like a petulant kid who hadn’t been given his candy. At Kuroo’s distracted silence, his expression morphed, curious concern arching up an eyebrow. “Hey…” he began, detaching himself from his best friend and leaning only slightly away. “You’ve been looking sortta distracted today. Why?”

At the question, Kuroo looks up from his watch, staring back at the other with a tired look. “Nothing… just kinda disappointed they didn’t show up.”

“They…?” For a moment, it looked as if gears were turning in the captain’s head before realization seemed to strike. “Oh!” His eyes widened. “You mean Karasuno!”

Overhead, he could spot Akaashi gathered with his team, a towel draped over his head as he spoke. After a while, the managers gave a nod before evacuating the hall with empty cans, the rest of the team leaning in closer to look at the sheet in the vice-captain’s hands. Shinzen completed their first lap of diving falls. Inarizaki was still in the middle of a match.

“That’s true, that’s true.” Bokuto nodded, holding his chin in thought as he spoke. “Maybe they couldn’t make it.”

Kuroo hummed unsure, leaning back so he could rest against the wall. “Kenma said he got a text from the shrimp. They were on their way already.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… and coach said they couldn’t have been over an hour away…” He released a sigh, eyes locked on to Inarizaki’s match, idly watching the Miya twins do the switcheroo thing where they change positions. “Dang… and I was hoping to play against them today.”

“Ahh… you’re right,” the other captain groaned, nodding his head in a mix of agreement and aggravation. “That means we won’t have Tsukki and Shoyou over for extra practice!” He huffed, shoving folded arms against his chest. “That’s kinda disappointing …”

Kuroo released a breath again, closing his eyes and having to reopen them as soon as something loud slammed the wall beside his head.

“Sorry!”

The stray ball bounced away from the wall, landing somewhere outside his line of sight. Akaashi called Bokuto over as the rest of the team dispersed, probably to explain what he’d just finished elaborating to his other teammates while he’d been attending to Kuroo. Showing the ace the sheet of paper, Bokuto immediately started laughing, heavily patting his vice-captain’s back as he yelled out a “Good job Akaashi!” in that exaggerated manner of his.

Just as the time on his watch read 8:05, the last of the matches for that hour had ended, and his team returned, preparing for the final match against Fukorodani.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nervous laughter* please don't kill me for hurting Suga (I haven't even gotten to the part where you might actually really want to kill me so pls be patient till then.)
> 
> Sorry if there were any mistakes (hoping there weren't cuz I haven't crosschecked yet). Thank you for reading! I haven't said it before, but I appreciate each and every one of you who take the time to read, comment and leave me kudos on my work! Honestly, ya'll are amazing! And I don't think I'd have had the motivation to even continue writing this without you guys. Thanks so much! And I hope you stick around cuz the next two chapters are gonna be _crazy_. New chapter next week!
> 
> Comments and kudos are highly appreciated!


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kageyama can't sleep...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for 1k Hits! I'm seriously overwhelmed??? You guys are literally the best. As promised, the next chapter came according to schedule! (let's hope I can keep this up 🤞🤞) This one might be a bit tamer than others, but let's just call this the calm before the storm. Enjoy!

**21:07**

KAGEYAMA is the only one awake when the rain ceases, and nightfall approaches.

In all honesty, he should have expected this after the occasional bouts of sleep he’d given himself over the course of this entire catastrophe of a trip. Remnants of the past weather bellowed through the window, soft winds from the outside nearly comforting in the presence of so much fear and uncertainty. Beside him, someone’s leg jabbed faintly against his side as they shifted to accommodate the cramped-up space they’d been stuffed into like a can of sardines. The sound of so many people breathing at once in the same space had never been so loud.

He could hear his own heartbeat.

_He’d just woken from a nightmare_.

It wasn’t so much a nightmare than it was a weirdly vivid reenactment of what they were currently experiencing. Except that instead of Kinoshita getting away unnoticed, he was killed on sight immediately he’d stepped out. And so was everyone else. And Kageyama, feeling the unfamiliar phantom pains of having a gun sever your intestines, had just laid there on the dirty, grassy floor, bleeding from his stomach and wheezing with pained, strangled breaths as his insides poured out of him. Although, instead of his guts, there were several volleyballs escaping from where his stomach and the rest of his internal organs were supposed to be, with the leader standing over them and grinning like a malicious tyrant. 

_Dreams are really weird_.

This entire situation was really weird. And unreal.

It was way too unreal. The fact that he hadn’t played any volleyball today, and the fact that the sweat clinging to his dirty clothes and skin didn’t stem from over exerting himself from rigorously pushing his body beyond its limits, from enhancing every aspect of his skills on the court. That the fast-paced beat of his heart came from a horrendous nightmare instead of the satisfying feel of completing a lap around the gym, or from running and jumping and sliding and diving over the squeaky wooden floors, from chasing the ball and stopping it from touching the floor, coordinating with his teammates, sending Hinata the best sets, helping his team improve and win. The fact that the only loud, reverberating sound echoing through the space in his head were the deafening gunshots of bullets being embedded into his sensei and coach.

At this hour, they were supposed to be in the gym, packing up from late night practice, heading to the showers or getting dinner.

His stomach whined in discomfort. They hadn’t eaten yet. 

Hinata would be yelling at him about what part of their practice he liked or didn’t, and Kageyama would yell back while conscientiously taking down notes on the specific factors he needed to work on the following day. Then they’d race each other to the bathrooms and/or cafeteria, inattentive to the complaints of any other person they might shove aside in the process of their occasional competitiveness. Afterwards, they’d retreat back to their assigned classroom, get some sleep, and head into the next day ready to do it all over again.

Kageyama knew they couldn’t do that now though. They were stuck in there until they were either rescued or somehow managed to escape.

The foot jabbing restlessly against his side dug even deeper into his ribs. He slid away to attempt escaping the unconscious assault, but then the side of his head knocked against someone else’s foot, and soon enough he found himself stuck between trying not to shove his teammates awake and attempting to ignore the nuances of staying quiet and faring with the uncomfortable situation on his own. In his mind, the familiar discomfort wasn’t that far off from regular training camp. He could just easily pretend it was Hinata’s limbs annoyingly sprawling itself across his body, or any of his sharp angles pressing uncomfortably against his sides like they usually did in literally every training camp.

He could close his eyes and pretend, just for a moment, that the grainy, unpleasant feel of the ground was just the cause of the awkward way he’d arranged his futon. He could pretend he’d been too tired from practice, hence the sweat and enervation coating every inch of his skin, and hadn’t found the energy to race Hinata to the showers today and had instead gotten to the room and slumped down to the floor, eager for rest and some modicum of shut eye from the grueling day of training they’d just endured. Daichi would be a bit mad that he’d stunk up the room with sweat and hadn’t showered after practice, but he’d only be let off with a warning.

Kageyama could pretend the somewhat cool air wafting from the window was coming from the classroom’s ventilation, and that the muffled voices he could hear coming from the other side of the wall belonged to the coaches and whichever of his teammate’s adult siblings decided to stay over with them as they drank beer and pretended they weren’t responsible adults in charge of taking care of over forty students in one building.

It felt nearly tolerable this way, ignoring every other inexorable factor like the absence of a warm, comforting duvet covering his body and providing warmth where he had none. Or the empty feeling prodding at his stomach, or the dryness of his throat and stickiness of his tongue.

It felt nearly tolerable, except it wasn’t, and every part of him felt miserable and afraid and unsure of what was even going to happen.

“Kageyama…” someone’s familiar voice whispered audibly in his direction, the murmured words coming not far from where the foot was now currently resting against his abdomen. Hinata’s voice whispered again, a timbre louder than his previous attempt at grasping at his attention. “_Kageyama_…”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he responded, sounding both tired and restless at once. Subconsciously he released a groan from his throat, something reminiscent to fond annoyance seeping through the cracks of his worries as he released a breath and opted to reply back to the short middle blocker.

“How did you know I was awake?”

“I didn’t.”

_Of course he didn’t_. Hinata was the type to get what he wanted when he wanted it, after all. He wouldn’t put it past him to interrupt someone else’s sleep if all he wanted was for someone to help him set some balls so he could work on his run ups again. Stifling another groan, he sighed and attempted to sit up and against the wall, subtly disturbing the foot atop his stomach while he moved to change his position. Hinata was beside him, also propped against the wall, although he was leaning forward and seemed to be curled into himself, his chin against his knees and his arms hugging his legs.

“Hey, Kageyama…” the male started, voice unnaturally quiet. The dull whispers of light from the moon shining through the window shed itself upon the male, casting shadows over his features and accentuating the tiredness that accompanied his vagrant appearance. He looked tired… unbelievably tired. What with the bags under his eyes, his slumped, heavy shoulders, and his dirt caked face. And there was a sadness and fear to him that Kageyama didn’t want to name. So he ignored it, facing the window and staring at the faint stars barely dotting the dark sky. “Why are you awake?”

“Dumbass Hinata. That’s my line,” he retorted, bringing his knees towards his chest in a position nearly similar to the redhead’s. Hinata had released a sigh, throat groggy and dazed as he spoke.

“I… had a nightmare.”

“Oh.” Kageyama’s gaze moved from where it had been focused on the window, averting towards the shorter male and watching his eyes stare blearily into the empty darkness.

“It was about us. Right now…” He noted, as the other talked, that the current timbre of Hinata’s voice was uncomfortably weird. Usually, the redhead was loud and sometimes obnoxious and childlike. There were times Hinata could get serious and focused too, and on rare occasions, he was quiet and still whenever he attempted to use his brain during a volleyball match. But never this quiet. Never this scared. “And we were… we were on the bus. And you… you were shot in the head… and—and it was so loud and there was blood on the floor and—”

“Oi, Hinata.”

“…Mm?”

“I had… I had a nightmare too.”

Like a plug had been pulled, he noticed Hinata’s behavior change, the focus of his eyes shifting from the deep, dark corners of his brain and right onto him, brown orbs faintly bright and curious, head marginally tilted, slight mannerisms that reminded Kageyama that the short middle blocker wasn’t as far gone as he feared.

“Why?” he asked, both curious and confused, like it was a peculiar occurrence for him to have nightmares like normal people would.

Kageyama resisted the urge to reach out for Hinata’s head and pull at the curls till he begged for mercy, instead huffing out annoyedly and muttering an out an angrily articulated “Dumbass Hinata” before continuing on.

“Because…” He felt his voice nearly trail off as he revealed his answer to Hinata, an unfamiliar vulnerability overtaking him as he hugged his knees even closer to his chest and released a sigh. “I’m… scared.”

“… Oh.” Hinata sounded almost dejected but at the same time somewhat relieved, burying his chin even further down his arms and rocking slightly back and forth. “That’s good.”

Kageyama’s brow twitched. “What?”

“I guess,” He paused, tilting his gaze so he was staring right into Kageyama’s eyes. “Even you can get scared too,” the shorter male replied, rocking motions breaking off as he changed positions and leaned up against the wall, shoulders nearly touching Kageyama’s. “Do you think we can escape? Just like Kinoshita-san?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged, mulling silently over Hinata’s words. “Do you have a plan?”

“Did Kinoshita-san have a plan?”

“I dunno.”

“You don’t know a lot of things if it’s not about volleyball.”

Kageyama jabbed an elbow against Hinata’s side. “Shut up, dumbass.”

“You shut up,” Hinata countered, returning the favor by jabbing his own elbow against his arm, barely stifling the yelp that escaped him when Kageyama flicked the middle blocker’s head, poking him right between the eyes in response.

Soon enough, a shoving match started between the two, jabs, retorts and attacks exchanged in what seemed to be an unending parry, with Kageyama trying to push the other down while Hinata attempted pushing the setter against the wall, his foot shoved up against his face, and Kageyama’s hands pulling at his short, red hair. They’d almost forgotten they were in a cramped-up cell had it not been for Daichi, who’d unsurprisingly risen from whatever modicum of sleep he’d managed to get in the sparse amount of time, and forced them to shut up while Suga, fully awake beside him, unsuccessfully tried to muffle his amusement, the vice-captain then confessing to never having fallen asleep in the first place after he’d been caught and hearing every whisper of their conversation and Kageyama’s mediocre attempt at comforting his teammate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for following my fic. (This wasn't beta'd). Comments and Kudos are highly apprciated.


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an ultimatum is given, and a decision is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!! Thanks once again for the 1k + hits! I've had this ready for some time and read through it before but I still think it might need more editing - lol idk, I'm always unsure of my work. Tell me what you think maybe?
> 
> In the mean time, please enjoy this chapter as much as you can!

**5:49**

“_RISE AND SHINE KIDS!!!”_

HINATA’s ears rang as door’s hinges echoed chillingly into the space of the room, the shrill cries of the metallic door opening penetrating through his skull and adding more to the excruciating aches he felt welling up within the walls of his head. He could feel the dirt and grime lining every inch of his skin as his consciousness came through, his neck creaking uncomfortably as he rose up from where he’d slept awkwardly against the wall. His body felt sore.

_Why did he feel like throwing up?_

“Oi, I said wake up already!” One of the men sneered, lackluster voice and assertive timbre indicating the belligerent sounding male to be Eyepatch. He neared, kicking against the bars of the cell, the sound reverberating maddeningly and adding to the nuances he felt slowly building up the more seconds he lay awake. The rest of his teammates didn’t take their time in rising up either, startled by the sudden awakening as most rubbed against their faces and eyes, limbs outspread in a bid to stretch out the sore aches they probably had in their muscles from sleeping in the tight space. Beside him, Kageyama muttered something inaudible, voice sounding more tired than normal. 

“_It’s time_…” Eyepatch suddenly sang, much to his quickly receding confusion, humming out a dreadfully dismal tune while he tapped against the bars. “_Time to pick a sacrifice_…”

“Shut up you drunkard,” another of the men, bored, droning tone only belonging to the silent Smoker-san sounded from the other side of the room. “Boss only needs us to pick one,” he said, his silhouette in the dim lighting indicating he may have been leaning up against the wall. “Don’t need you killing more than he promised, now would we?”

In front of the cells, Eyepatch-kun groaned, dramatically kicking his foot against the floor at the same time the abductor’s words registered within his head. _Wait… what did he just say—?_ “You’re literally the fucking worst. Always ruining my fun…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Smoker said lazily. “You’ll have your share of fun.”

_Was today…?_

“Oh really? How? Do tell.”

_Had time passed that quickly—_

“You get to be in charge of who gets the cut,” Smoker replied. “I’m only here to supervise. Make sure you don’t go overboard. You know, the usual shit.”

The male scoffed aloud. “You’re one to talk about ‘overboard’.” Eyepatch released a grunt, kicking himself off from where he’d been leaning on the cell bars. There was a wide grin in his voice as he uttered out the next sentence, the glint in his eyes visible even in the lack of proper lighting. “But I get it, right? I won’t go ‘_overboard’_. We only need one sacrificial lamb after all.” At that, the lights turned on, dim and tinted a shade of amber as it flickered above them and faintly lighted up the space of the small room. The cruelty in his one visible eye was made even more evident now that every feature of his face was made mildly clearer. Smoker, still leaning up against the wall was busy lighting a cigarette, puffing smoke into the already stale air of the room.

Though his eyes were focused on the two, deadly males before them, he could catch the uncomfortable, terrified shifts and cringes of his teammates as the situation gradually registered, and the sadistic glint he’d seen residing within Eyepatch’s eyes shone brighter and brighter as he swept his gaze over each and every one of them.

“So,” the pitiless looking male started, crouching down slowly just like he did the last time he’d been over, ensuring he was somewhat at an eye-level with the lot of the teenagers. “Time’s a-wasting. How do we do this?” Hinata felt everyone tense as his eyes roamed over them, dread and something worse trickling slowly into his veins. He wasn’t sure if he should look away or move at all, his heart nearly leaping out his throat as he made eye contact with the man for the briefest of moments.

The man grinned, and he felt every bone in his body grow cold with underlying despair.

_“_ _**How do we choose the scapegoat?**”_

“_K-kageyama_…” Hinata’s mouth trembled as he whispered the setter’s name, his hand motioning to grab the one beside his, squeezing it in an attempt ground himself. He felt his heart palpitate, horrifying frames of worst-case scenarios playing and replaying like a track on repeat as memories of his nightmare rushed unbidden to the forefront of his mind. _Oh no… not today. Please, not today_…

“I-I know…” the setter whispered back, muscles underneath Hinata’s palm clenching as Kageyama dug his fingernails into his palm. He was scared too. “I know…”

All around him, he didn’t need to see each and every one of their faces as he could already sense they were in a similar state of sinking desolation, hands grasped on to other hands, fists were clenched, bodies were tense with apprehension and dread, stone still and unmoving.

They were all scared.

“What? No ideas?” Eyepatch almost looked sincerely disappointed as the only response he was graced was their fear-filled silence, none of them willing to talk or utter a sound to avoid drawing attention to themselves. “Not even someone you hate? I mean, there’s gotta be at least one of ya no one likes.”

Again, silence filled the gaps in space as no one uttered a single word. This made the male groan, sighing aggravatedly as he shut his eyes and shook his head, obviously feigning some sort of dissatisfaction. Hinata’s grip around Kageyama’s wrist tightened, anticipating the worst. The eye patched male was definitely not the most hinged person in the room. There was no telling what went on in the mind of a person so willing to kill a child without a second thought.

He felt his stomach churn as the memory of Suga’s terrified expression as the man held a knife to his face came to mind, the maddening spark in the man’s eyes at that moment was incomparable to any idea of a psychopath he might have had up till then. He didn’t want to see that again. _He didn’t want to see any of his teammates die_. He didn’t want any of them getting _hurt_.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Eyepatch-kun grumbled, rubbing his stubbled chin between his fingers as his eyes roamed from one head to the next before it landed on one, right at the other end of the cell. A grin stretched his face, and as usual, it sent a cold wave of nausea down his core.

“Hey, _Suga_, was it?”

It was like a rope had been pulled taut over all their necks, just about close from cutting off their supply of air but enough to keep them stiller than they possibly were, visible flinches and slight, faint intakes of breath from one or two people being the only possible movements. But nothing more. He averted his eyes towards the third year in question, all focus, both good and bad fixated on him, much to his chagrin. No one said anything, especially not Suga, even when the male had his eyes and disturbing grin directed towards every inch of his general person, all sorts of cruel intent written on all the features of his face.

The third-year’s eyes were widened, back visibly flat against the wall as his shoulders stayed raised to his ears in vivid fear. Terror and panic wrote itself on every aspect of his features.

He looked like a deer caught in headlights, about to be hit by an incoming vehicle with no way to avoid the collision and only bracing itself for its quick demise. He looked exactly like that, terrified and bracing for impact all at once.

“Hey now, don’t look at me that way,” Eyepatch says, noticing his apprehensive gaze and raising up his hands in mock-surrender, lowering them back to his crouched knees where they rested between his legs. “I’m not gonna hurt ya. Not yet at least. No harm in talking a little, right?” he said, not that any of his words were given any sincere meaning coming from a guy who’d literally been about to disfigure his face not so long ago. 

“You look like a pretty pleasant guy,” he continues, taking on a noticeably fake friendly tone as he tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowed as if gauging him for some sort of reaction. “Your friends might miss you if I slit your throat.” His smile widened. "Right?"

At this, the man grins, baring his teeth for the slightest moment as he chuckles faintly, staring deeply into the other’s soul like he was looking for ways to rip it apart.

Hinata could have sworn his gulp was the most audible thing in the room, but that notion might have emanated from his quickly increasing paranoia.

“So, tell me the truth.” He let a dramatic pause settle in between his sentences, allowing the tension and pressure welling up in the room to rise considerably before he moved on to his next set of words. “Who would you miss the least if I were to off any of your friends? Be honest,” Eyepatch alluded, eyes trained on the silver-haired male as a visible sheen of sweat now seemed to line his forehead. _Why…?_ Hinata’s throat dried up as the question echoed in the darkening space of his head.

A tension unlike any other rose as a lurid silence came as the male’s only response, his question settling in. The implication of the man’s request only seemed to register for a short period of time.

_He was asking him to choose…_

“I mean, it’s okay if you don’t tell me,” the one-eyed male added, now tapping his fingers against his knee as the silence stretched on. “I’d just have to take you instead,” he suggested to his dismay. “Maybe the boss will let me keep you for fun for a while longer before we feel like showing your body to the Japanese government.” _Hinata definitely felt like throwing up now_. “Now that I mention it,” His fingers tapped against his chin. “It doesn’t sound like that much of a bad idea.” _Hinata could feel his stomach roil, a mix of whatever was left of the previous day’s breakfast threatening to upheave from his throat. Already, he could feel it **burning**._ He dug his nails into Kageyama’s poor skin, the pressure and fear he felt from the weight of the ultimatum gripping his chest so much that he barely registered his actions.

Although, Kageyama also seemed lost in the air of dread hanging over their heads, as he gave no reaction when the shorter one’s nails embedded themselves into the flesh of his wrists.

No one moved. No one seemed to _breathe_.

_He was asking him to choose between his own life or the life of his teammates. His friends_.

It was…

“Well Suga-chan… I’m _waiting_…”

It was so unfair.

“I—” There was a noticeable uneasiness to his voice as the third-year setter opened his mouth the slightest bit before shutting it closed, hands visibly shaking from where he’d huddled them protectively against his stomach. He looked too scared. Suga never looked too scared. “I—”

“Tick, tock Suga…” There was a warning lilt to his voice as he patted his index finger against his wrist in a show to tell him the time was running out. Smoker remained silent at the back, half his cigarette already burnt out as he puffed more smoke into the air, adding to the already choked up atmosphere suffocating the room.

Hinata felt tears prick at his eyes as he watched the third-year struggle to reach a decision. For someone so good at making all sorts of calls on the volleyball court, this wasn’t a situation where making a wrong choice didn’t end in the loss of a life.

On one hand, if the male decided he was wasting his time and decided to take the third year, it would end up in Suga having to die. And on the other hand, if someone ended up being picked, then he won’t have to die, but someone else would take his place. Someone else would have to lose their life, and Hinata didn’t want that. He didn’t want anyone of his friends to get hurt. He wanted them to get out of there and be _safe_, and play volleyball, and not have to worry about any of his friends dying within twelve hours every single second he lay there. He wanted them to live.

He didn’t want to feel so _terrified_.

_He didn’t want to die_.

And neither did Suga, it seemed, because soon his voice came out, small and scared, unsure in every sense of the word as he swallowed slowly before speaking. “No…”

“Huh?”

“D-don’t make me choose!” It was all too sudden, the raised pitch of his voice as he yelled out his plea, clap of his hands as he brought them together before him, the impulsive bow as he posed himself in a patent display of supplication. His voice cracked as he continued, broken and grasping on to slippery strings that seemed far out of reach. “I-I don’t want to be responsible for any of my friend’s deaths. I-If I have to… th-then,” The pause seemed almost hesitant as his senior stared despairingly at the ground. “Then I’ll… I’ll go first.”

“S-Suga-san…”

“Suga no…! You _can’t_…”

“Stop!” The silver haired male looked up and glared at the mass of his teammates. “I’m not letting any of you die, okay? They… they just need a scapegoat right? That means there’s a chance all of you might make it out alive. A-And… if that means someone has to leave… I’ll rather be the one who does it.”

“Suga,” Daichi spoke up from beside him, tone borderline a mix of anger and worry as he glared at his setter. “That’s incredibly selfish!” He took on that scolding tone he always did when he reprimanded his teammates, brows furrowed, voice firm, although now fluctuating between concern and fury as he stared down at the vice-captain. Hinata could almost see the clench of his teeth, the tremble of his hands as he put one atop his shoulder and stared into his eyes, gripping on tightly like he was struggling between hitting and hugging the silver-haired male. It was probably because it was Suga. It was definitely because it was Suga. “Have some introspection… Think of how we’d feel!”

“Y-yeah…” Ennoshita suddenly voiced from where he’d been quiet all through, his position right beside Asahi at the left corner of the cell. “I mean, we don’t want you to die either you know.”

“Right!” Noya declared, joining in the fray of defending all the reasons Suga needed to refute his statement. As always, he was the loudest of the bunch despite the stale, ghastly air that hung over them. “And we value your life just as much!”

An aura of agreement settled over each and every one of them as the affirmations were made in honor of keeping Suga’s life, causing tears to well up in the third year’s eyes as his friends tried talking him out of his rapid decision to sacrifice himself for them.

Hinata’s heart welled up with gladness at the sight, a warm feeling that granted him comfort in the coldness of the cement walls and dirt filled floors of their prison cell. He’d almost convinced himself to say something as well when Smoker-san, who’d been mostly silent throughout the entire ordeal spoke up, puffing out a circle of smoke from his mouth before throwing the used cigarette stick away.

“Well that was heartwarming,” the apathetic sounding male said, sighing and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “We’re done,” he announced suddenly. “I’ve gotten the scapegoat.”

Hinata felt confusion overtake everything else taking root in his mind.

And all too suddenly, the warm feeling in his chest faded away as Smoker-san’s eyes drifted on to the occupants of the cell, landing lazily on one particular head of dark hair as he walked over, boots thudding softly, and then stopping just a foot away from the cell bars separating him from reaching them. The unhinged Eyepatch looked about to say something, but was instantly interrupted as the dispirited smoker lifted his hand from his pocket, wielding a gun and pointing it in the direction of his chosen victim.

“Him. He goes first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnnnn. Cliffhanger bitches! Bet you didn’t see that coming did you? Didn’t think so. And by the way, I left a little clue on who gets to die first. If you think you know something, write down in the comments and lemme know what you think!   
And also, I might have based a little of Smoker’s character off Dabi from BNHA, if you noticed. You didn't have to, i just got some- a little bit- of inspiration off of him.)
> 
> And also, I'm sorry for hurting Suga again- I can't promise you the hurt in general is going to end, so apologies in advance I guess?
> 
> Thanks for reading! Next chapter _might_ come out late since I haven't completed it yet- same for the following chapters. But I hope ya'll can be patient with me for a while. Till then <3<3<3


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinoshita gets found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaahhhh... I don't have anything else to say but sorry. Just... sorry. And please don't kill me 😅

**6:00**

HINATA felt his life flash before his eyes at the rapid sound of the gunshot.

It was loud, bleary and deafening in ways he couldn’t have ever dreamed of. It pierced through his ears and reverberated within his skull, echoing loudly like the booming aftershocks of a volleyball slamming noisily onto the hardwood floors of the gym. It was like the raucous yells and cheers of his opponents as they celebrated a win, voices drowning out every other thing till all he could feel was the sorrow that came with loss, the regret that came from losing, failing. It was like something that crashed over him, a rapid wave of emotion and sensations that couldn’t be described with words itself.

It hurtled right into his very being at a speed so rapid he hadn’t even had the time to register what had happened until he felt the splattered blood of his teammate drip down his forehead and onto his cheek.

Hinata didn’t need to let the emotions and shock register in his head, didn’t need to diffuse the swirl of commotion and feelings trying to take root within the deep recesses of his mind, embedding themselves into his heart. He didn’t need to unfurl the fog clouding his vision as he stared blearily at the dark-haired male slumped onto the wall, eyes widened and out-of-focus, and a bullet wound embedded right between the eyes. He’d just felt the need to scream. So he did.

Loudly.

“_K-KAGEYAMA!_”

\--`,`--

KINOSHITA woke up as soon as the first streams of light fell upon his face.

His eyes, bleary from post-slumber fluttered open groggily, beaming streams of sunlight piercing through the openings in the canopy of pine and timber, glistening the muddy ground still wet from the previous day’s rain. _Rain_. That’s right, his brain supplies. It rained the night before. And he’d fallen asleep, _in_ the rain. 

Kinnoshita raises a muddy hand to his face, an attempt to fully clear the sleep weighing upon his eyelids. _He was stuck in the rain last night_. Not the worst-case scenario he’d have ever imagined. He lifted his other hand to his neck, ensuring the back of his hand contacted his skin. It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t all that blaringly cold. At least, he didn’t feel like he had hypothermia.

His nose felt numbed and clogged though, and his head felt like it was full of helium. His eyes blurred for a moment, before his sights returned to him.

He’s fine. Kinnoshita inhales a breath. _He hadn’t been eaten by wolves or snakes or wild animals_. He’s fine, he tells himself again, mustering up the strength to force his limbs from the wet ground. His clothes are damp and murky, and stick to his skin in odd places as he slowly rises from the rain-soaked floors of the forest, but he’s not deterred. He made it through one night in the woods, exposed to all the dangers and threats and fears, and he’s alive, and can _move_, and can _breathe_. Kinnoshita is fine.

He takes one step forward, and it was all it took to send him tumbling down a slope.

The air is knocked out of him as he feels his body become one with gravity, his body inadvertently twisting so he landed his shoulder against the ridged, uneven ground, the steep slant of the hill sending him careening _down, down, down_ to an indefinite end. More air is knocked out of his lungs as the muddy hill shifts and sends his body bowling downwards like a flicked pebble, and his side connects with a rock jutting out of the hill’s ground, rebounding his former route and angling him beyond towards another path.

And then his body flies for the briefest of moments—in which in that moment he feels the barest modicum of sweet relief—before he lands his back against another rock, and the declination continues.

Kinnoshita doesn’t scream until his side collides onto a rock again, and his body is further sent flying, crashing and sliding against stonier, jagged ground. Rocks and stones and stranded sticks scrape against his body and clothes, and grime continues to blind his eyes and gather in his shoes and hair. His descent ends gracelessly, the slope of the hill steeping further and further till it becomes nothing but a cliff, and from there he falls.

And falls.

And falls.

And loses consciousness as his back connects sharply against the surface of a cold stream, the last thing he spots being the sun peeking from the clouds, and a dark, blurry figure hiding away in the bushes.

_He’s cold_, he thinks as he comes to, feeling the icy gusts of breeze enclose around his feet, his vision blurring drowsily around the edges, murky gaze set over the darkening sights of an old, rotted ceiling, leaking cracks demarcating the interior’s surface. Eyes fogging through a brief instant of subtle disquiet, he pulls the blind over his vision and shuts his eyes once more, letting the cold he felt sinking through his clothes and skin and bones fester and grow till it left him numb.

Something thumped against his side, and he was startled awake.

“Oi…” Their voice is rusted and grim, like the corroded hinges of the century old gate belonging to the abandoned building a few blocks away from his house, the one he and his neighborhood friends would sneak off to as kids when their parent’s weren’t looking, and would then proceed to play ‘haunted house’ in, pretending they were spirits and demons and scaring the younger kids away from the territory. The thought made his lip quirk up in the ghost of a smile, lidded eyes heavy though the rest of his body felt both light and unsteady, deadened in most parts and tremendously aching in the others.

“_Oi_…!” the owner of the voice grunted again, and his eyes snapped back open—unaware of when he’d closed them—blinking momentarily as his mind was pulled back to the present and vague understanding of his existing disposition began to trickle slowly into his mind, like a gradually dripping stream filling up a gorge. His gaze shifted from the worse-for-wear ceiling, from the mold glazing the exterior fissures and the lining of gross algae around its several corners, and landed upon a figure standing right by his side.

It was then he noticed the restrained pressure present against the side of his ribs.

_Oh… oh shit—_

Awareness kicking in at near-impossible speeds, he jolted upright and slid himself across the dampened wooden floor, pushing his feet against the ground and propelling his body away from the direction of the stranger despite the sharp burns and aches he felt pulling at his skin with every stretch.

The stranger, face covered in a skeptical looking mask hiding everything but the eyes and dark colored hair, body clothed in rugged attire that scarily resembled the terrorists that had abducted his teammates, reached out a hand to stop him, but Kinoshita was faster, panic and adrenaline driving the capacity of his weakened system.

“Oi _kid!_ Hold on—”

Kinoshita had nearly reached the door—_the only one he’d seen with light emanating between its wooden cracks_—fingers merely brushing against the peeling surfaces before something grabbed his ankle and pulled him backwards. A frightened cry left his split lips, splinters embedding into his nails and fingers as he scratched against the floor, trying to get a grip of something to hold on to. _Anything… anything_—

He was pulled closer, further away from the door.

Shit_. **Shit**—_

“Kid—!”

With flailing hands, limbs thrashing and flapping in an effort to fight against the male’s hold, his fingers brushed against something hard, round and light, the surface feeling much like stiff, solid glass. Thinking fast, he used the opportunity to grab at the object before it rolled away.

And then swung it.

_Hard_.

The bottle landed against what had to be his assailant’s face with a loud _crash_, a series of curses leaving the male’s lips as glass and liquid splattered on the floor, and he was forced to release his leg to hold on to his bleeding face. Before stopping to even breathe, Kinoshita took to his heels and scurried forward and towards the door, swinging the old thing back, and only flinching at the assault of light emanating from the outside and momentarily blinding his vision, his limbs never halting for even a moment, pushing against the pain in his chest and stomach and arms.

The sand was wet underneath his fingers, bare feet skidding against the slippery loamy soil as he rushed and nearly tripped over himself in his escape.

He barely looked at where he was headed to, only caring that he was _far, far, far away and safe and alive_—

He ran back into the thicket of the forest, letting the trunks of trees, bushes and vegetation, thorns and vines and foliage shield him from view. He could only hear the echoes of his own breath escaping him as heavy pants eluded his lungs, the heavy patters of his feet the only thing he could hear reverberating across the forest floor as he ran and ran and ran without looking, still flailing hands pushing aside obstructing branches and vines, vaguely ignoring every rock and surface scraping his skin, every hint of his subconscious screaming at him that he was probably running further and further away from escape, _that he wouldn’t be able to save his friends, that they’d die because of him, because he was too scared, too useless. Because he was injured and alone and helpless and had he even been **thinking**_—?

His breaths terminated completely as something slammed against his foot and he was sent careening downwards, his body once more attaining pandemonium with gravity.

Soon enough, dirt and stone slammed against his face as he once again came into contact with the ground, nothing except the sickening crunch of his nose breaking and fracturing into several ruptures echoing across the quiet of the surrounding trees and softly trickling sunlight.

It didn’t take even a second. Pain bloomed across the center of his nose. And like wildfire, it spread and _burned_.

Tears, _unconscious, wounded, **frustrated**_ tears appeared at the corners of his vision.

_Fuuuuuck. _Kinoshita grit his teeth I anguish._ It **hurt**_**.**

“Owwww… _crap, crap—_” he whined, raising his face from the floor and bringing a hand to cup around his nose. Already, he could feel the deep red, iron liquid trickling down, heavy and bitter as it slowly oozed past his mouth and chin, spreading along the line separating his lips and seeping into his tongue. It was a disgusting sensation, coppery like liquid metal and sticky against his already dirt-coated skin. He motioned to spit out the taste, but then his nose throbbed in protest at the movement, sharp stings and burns intensifying the more he tilted his head. It felt like someone was slowly, torturously driving several nails into his skull, right through his nose, the pain intensifying with every passing second.

**_Ow_**—

_It **really **hurt…_

_O-okay… okay… what did sensei say we should do when blood escapes through our nasal cavities—? Stop the blood from flowing by… tipping the head? Or is it—_

He heard a branch snap a distance behind him, and Kinoshita jolted in shocked fear.

From behind the tree he leaned against, he peeked over at the rustling foliage, his heart thumping as he felt the adrenaline flow through his veins like a storming tsunami. **_Shit_**_. _His whole body stilled, eyes widened as he watched the trembling bush shiver quietly. Kinoshita could’ve sworn his heart had nearly leapt out of his chest as something quick and fast leapt out of the bush, only releasing a breath when he’d realized it had only been a hare, the palpations wracking his chest calming just as quickly once he realized the man may not have indeed followed him.

However, _there really wasn’t any time_. If one of them managed to find him, it meant there were probably others looking for him as well. He rose to get up, but nearly fell at the intensity of the pulsations that heated up the joints of his foot—the one that had slammed against the log that caused his fall. He released a curse, gritting his teeth in frustration and pain. _He could feel it, every cut and abrasion on his skin, every tear of his muscle, the creak of bruised bones and aching joints._ Agony filled up every space of his being as he fought against the pain and tried to force his body up from the ground.

But the ache that shot up his foot and through the entirety of his left leg sent him crashing back down to the floor, only his knee stopping the rest of his body from colliding back against the dirt covered ground. His brows furrowed, bottom lip stinging as he embedded his teeth into soft flesh, eyes locked angrily on the uncooperative ankle. Testing his luck, he flexed it to the side, _just a bit_, and nearly keeled over at the amount of sharp heat that stretched over the entirety of his leg.

This wasn’t going to work.

“Aghh…!” he cried out as he leaned backwards and fell on his behind, pulling his hurt foot in front of him and leaning over to check the bruising that lined the region over his joints. It was already turning sickly shade of black, red scrapes creating an unruly pattern atop his injured skin, ugly, shallow gashes running across the other in a series of inclined and parallel incisions. He flexed the foot again, and instantly reminded himself to _never do that again_ as pain reverberated through his limb once more.

_Okay… not doing that again_. Kinoshita hissed, pulling the foot further towards himself.

_He needed to do something about this_. He needed to be able to move, and for that…

His hands went to his shirt.

_He needed a harness_.

He dug his teeth into the hem of the cloth, and with the aid of his pulling fingers, he ripped a section of the shirt apart..

After securing his foot as tightly as he could, and checking that it wouldn’t move past the threshold of pain he could just barely bear, he used the side of a tree trunk as a leverage to pull himself off the floor, bending his knee and elevating his left foot in his ascent so it wouldn’t fully touch the ground. Twinges of pain still shot up his limb in brief spouts of terrible aches, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He could still move. _He could still run_. He was still fine.

Blood trickled down his nose in narrow streams.

_He was fine…_

Inhaling a breath through his mouth, he grit his teeth and locked his jaw, eyes set on the path ahead of him as he journeyed forward, set on not stopping till he found a way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okayyy so besides our precious baby setter potentially K-wording... AREN'T WE hAPPy KiNo's ALIvE tHO??? I mean he's not okay, injured some, scared some- but he's also not dead, let's not forget that. I've alredy planned the next something chapters so be ready for times a hundred of what I've fed ya'll today. 
> 
> We're yet to scratch the surface.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and Kudos are appreciated!!! Love ya lots!


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in Miyagi, the Karasuno Alumni run into an unexpected scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo.... the reason this took so long was mainly due to writer's block and a troubling lack of inspiration. Apologies.  
I actually already had chapter ten written out a while ago, but it was simply lacking and didn't fit with the overall theme of this fic (at least, not right now, at least), so it was scrapped. Yeah.
> 
> Deleted a whole ass 4k+ words.
> 
> But now we have this better, action packed, thought inducing one! Hooray!!!
> 
> Anyway, still soo sorry for the delay! Please enjoy. Regular updates start now. (And happy new year peeps ☺☺)

**7:10**

SAEKO’s mouth stretched into a weary, drawn-out yawn, fingers rubbing jadedly against her eyes as she cradled a hot cup of coffee in her hand, the wind whistling from the other side of the window hitting against the panes as though it were trying to force its way in, not that it hadn’t already seeped through the cracks before then. The tips of her fingers felt infinitely numb and the layered jackets she’d topped over her work clothes were hardly doing the bare minimum of keeping out the cold.

Just like the weather reports had suspected, the chances of clouds blotting out the sky as early as the morning started rose to a 99%. Roads were going to be blocked and shops were surely going to be closed. Not that her boss cared. She was still required to show up and man the counter and attend to customers, and most importantly: Open up shop.

Not that her coworkers couldn’t get in themselves through the back door. Saeko was however the only one tasked with the responsibility of giving potential customers an entryway into the restaurant for the day. Visible fog hovered before her vision as she blew out a breath, half-finished cup of coffee held a meter away from her lips as she stared unenthusiastically at the window.

_She didn’t want to go to work today_.

It wasn’t an uncommon thought that breezed through her mind every once in a while. In fact, she hadn’t felt like going to work throughout the previous week just because she didn’t feel like dealing with the new employee and whatever bullshit excuse her boss came up with to get her to man the brat for another day. However, this day felt ultimately different. Almost specific, in a way she couldn’t precisely pinpoint. Like how the hue of the skies and the chill of the weather supplemented the obnoxious restlessness she’d felt running through her veins from the moment she’d opened her eyes to meet the day. And in the way she felt both full and dissatisfied as she stared at the half-finished cup of caffeine and too much sugar, the swirls of foam on the top dwindling in size the more she stared into the dusky russet liquid.

So maybe she was overthinking a bit. _Maybe_.

But she felt her frustration wouldn’t dissipate if she didn’t leave her house in the next minute, so she dumped the rest of coffee down the drain, switched off the lights and headed out of the building, shoving the keys in her bag and hopping inside her van before the cold of the oncoming rainstorm could seep even deeper past her skin and into her bones.

Time seemed to blend into a blurry cataleptic enigma during the drive on the road, the radio stations restricted to two channels in which both played drab piano-filled instrumentals made the windy storm look more dispiriting than it should have been, further complimenting the mood that the had day so readily presented before her. Saeko leaned back into her seat, and tried her best to enjoy the poor taste in music anyway.

She jarred openly as her van jostled over a bump on the road, another car which had swerved past her nearly running into the vehicle itself, scraping against it side in its indefinite but highly unwarranted hurry.

The van swerved in the opposite direction in a knee jerk reaction to avoid inevitable collision, her heart nearly beating out of her chest as she slowly drove to the other side of the road, her eyes widened in momentary shock. _What the fuck was that? _Saeko glared in disdain as she watched the dark blue Cadillac drive away from the sideview mirror, its tires screeching madly against gravel. _Who even drives like that? _“Damn lunatic.” She cussed, tightening her hold on the wheel and inhaling in a lungful of oxygen. Work was only a few more minutes away. Her coworkers would get agitated if she showed up looking like early murder.

Letting out a breath, she forced on a calmed expression and continued in her former acceleration, her eyes flashing to the mirror once more as she inched back to the middle of the street, watching the road in front of her fervently as the speed of the wind began to escalate, stray, light objects flailing past and the branches of trees rustling heavily and bending to the will of the weather. It didn’t surprise her when light droplets of rain began falling from the sky, landing in light drops on her vehicle windows.

She slowed down to accommodate the quickly mounting winds, straightening up in her chair and glaring through the glass of her slowly fogging up windows. Behind her another car driving a distance away shone its headlights, the bright amber emitting from the car’s front made even more visible through the foggy dimness of the morning’s weather. Following suit, she switched on her headlights as well, lighting up the path before her better than the darkened skies could.

She was only five minutes away from the restaurant, but Saeko was beginning to even wonder if anyone would even show up to the small roadside building in this ungodly climate when the car behind her revved its wheels and slammed straight into her rear.

She only had a second to scream.

Losing control, she let the panic and shock of the sudden collision tear through her system as the van deviated thoroughly and ran off the side of the road.

When Saeko opened her eyes again, it was to the blurry, fog-stained vision of rain dotting her windows, her nose buried into a huge, dusty air bag, and her head feeling as though it had been split open by a kitchen knife. “_What the fuck… …what happened?_” Lifting her face up from the air-sack, she felt a wave of nausea settle inside her stomach, causing her sights to waver, her left vision blotted out by something dark and thick and running down from the top of her face to her chin.

Running a finger over her eye, she saw the tips return a deep bloodied red, the pain hammering against her skull further amplified as she registered what the _hell_ had just happened to her.

She’d been hit.

The nausea ran up her throat, forcing a strained litany of coughs racing past her lips. Saeko took little victory in the fact that her mouth didn’t taste like blood afterwards. There hadn’t been internal damage, at least, nothing serious enough to limit her from moving.

Grunting in pain, she leaned backwards and looked through her fogged panes, noticing smoke and sparks emitting from the front bumper, glimpses of stone and debris making itself known through the smog, indicating she’d jammed into a wall. Well that was definitely terrific. She wasn’t sure she had insurance to cover the damage done to her car.

Through the faded ringing in her ears and incessant pounding against her skull, the noise of slamming car doors beyond the interior of her car caught her attention, forcing her to squint through the glass panes and into the street. Faintly, she could only make out the blurry visage of a lone blue car, a Cadillac, waiting a few meters away, its own car doors slamming open and shut, and two guys leaving the vehicle and quickly coming her way.

Before she could think to question herself on their scale of social morality, a gunshot was aimed at her window, a lone bullet breaking through 3 inches of thick glass like it was a flimsy piece of paper.

Okay. So they were the _bad _guys.

Saeko didn’t give herself the luxury of contemplating the expectancy of an early death, she ducked below her window before another bullet could actually embed itself into her skull, and crawled towards the back of the car, kicking open the car door and falling onto the wet, rough gravel, the ravenous chill of the weather and ruthlessness of the heavily rising rain both greeting her in her bid to escape.

Ignoring the pain in her knee and the extra lines of blood trickling down her face, she tore away from her van, making her way forward and not even thinking of looking back.

…

SHIMADA had just been about making his rounds around the mart, maybe check to see if the storm had disconnected some lights or freezers, maybe to relive himself of the mundane task of waiting for customers that wouldn’t come in the middle of said storm in the first place, when something banged against his front entrance.

Now Shimada wasn’t brave by any chance. It had taken him a while to make himself noticed in the volleyball club, and even then he still had never been a starter. That and he’d once forked over all the cash in the register and half of the goods in the store when he’d had a gun pointed to him once.

So he wasn’t fully ashamed when the first thing he did was think to duck behind his desk. He wasn’t a confrontational person, and he’d learned to accept that part of him to an extent. But then the bang was followed by preceding knocks, each one heavier and more frantic than the last, so when the thought crossed his mind, telling him that there might actually be a person waiting on the other side for his help, he quickly scrapped the first thought of possible assaulters from the paranoia guiding his head.

Quickly, he made his way for his door and unlocked it—locked previously to keep flying, intruding objects carried by the storm from entering the place—only to be met with a desperate looking, frizzy haired Saeko, streams of blood dispersed by the rain staining the left side of her face, and panic dotted with droplets of relief lining the edges of her gaze. She ran into the store in a flurry and closed the doors behind her in such a speed one would think she was being chased.

Although it was beginning to look like that was the very case as he took her in.

“Ta—Saeko-san!” he gasped as he neared her, having to hold on to her shoulders to stop her from tipping over. She looked like she’d been running for over a mile. “Saeko-san, what happened? Are you okay?” But then she leaned further into him, her formerly widened eyes slowly narrowing before fluttering shut, her lips muttering a particular set of words before they ceased movement entirely. “_Saeko-san!_”

_What—what’s happening? Why did Saeko show up at his_—

The sound of screeching tires a distance from his store echoed across the rain petered streets, and suddenly her words started to make a little more sense.

_“I’m sorry… run.”_

He was definitely questioning her later. Deciding to save his morbid confoundment for a posterior time, he huddled her in his arms and hurried to the backdoor, shutting and bolting it locked while he raced for the van he usually kept parked there for delivery purposes.

“Okay Saeko,” he muttered to himself, placing her in the backseat and securing her body with seatbelts before racing towards the driver’s side, quickly jamming in the key and starting up the engines. “I’m trusting you with this… _whatever this is_… this once,” he eased out of the groove and into the street, driving as slowly and as silently as he could away from the mart, hoping against all hope he hadn’t signed his death sentence the moment he’d seen Saeko standing bruised and panicked at his doorstep.

His eyes constantly veered to the side and rearview mirrors more than it did the road, regularly searching for any sights of chasing vehicles that could be hot on his tail, and was as glad as he was spiteful for the lack of other cars on the street due to the weather that seemed to be knocking over trees and tossing trashcans onto sidewalks. He looked over at Saeko once in a while, at the rise and fall of her chest. Ensuring she was breathing and stayed alive till they reached a safe spot.

His home wasn’t too far. And it was well hidden and indistinguishable in the six-story apartment complex just a bit close to the train station. And if he took the short cut that led him through a sloping alleyway, he’d be able to evade whatever it is that had been chasing the blonde laying in his back seats for a while longer. At least, they’d be out of plausible sight before they’d reached his apartment.

The rain maintained its grating pace until he arrived at the complex, parking his van in a spot hidden from the road’s blatant view and hurriedly running into the building as fast as he could while carrying a twenty-one-year-old blonde woman in his arms.

His neighbors and fellow occupants all gave him confounded gazes and looks of shock and curiosity, but they were fairly ignored in favor of attending to the problem he literally had at hand.

By the time he’d reached his apartment on the third floor, he just as hurriedly as he’d done everything else, shut and locked all the bolts and locks, dropping Saeko on his sofa before collapsing on the floor right beside it immediately afterwards. _He might consider weightlifting after this_. How much did she even weigh? A ton? His back was _aching_.

_That would probably land him a well-deserved punch if he said that out loud._

Shimada gulped in a lungful of air as he slumped heavily against the base of the couch, his heart beating faster than it ever had as he fought to regain his strength and lost oxygen, his mind heating up several degrees in his attempt to contemplate what had the_ hell _had just happened. _Why did Saeko show up at the front of his store looking like she tried to outrun a car?_

Why she had come to him? If there was a specific reason?

_If he’d_—Wait._ Did he even lock up the register before he’d left? _

“_Arghh_…” he groaned uselessly, the constantly bombarding questions enough to encourage a skull-splitting headache. He shivered as a goosepump inducing chill wafted over his skin as his brain finally registered the precedence his sopping wet clothes. He’d been unable to get himself an umbrella in the midst of the frenzy, resulting in his recent dilemma and adding to the hectic mix of unanswered questions and building frustrations that was his continuously increasing conundrum. Shimada wasn’t even sure if he’d locked the entrance doors. Would those guys steal anything? Were they even thieves? Or were they just concerned with Saeko?

Why were they after her in the first place?

He shifted his gaze to the sofa’s current occupant, the cause of his concurrent quandary. Saeko was still unconscious, smeared lines of blood faintly staining her head and face, possibly sporting a concussion as well as an injury which he’d need to treat as soon as possible. Her clothes were also wet too, and she’d been in the rain longer than him. He’d probably need to put her in the bath.

He wondered if she’d freak out if she found herself half-naked in a stranger’s bathtub. She’d probably nail him in the nuts. And then proceed to drown him in his own toilet.

_Okay, _he sighed outwardly._ No bathtubs._ At least, not until she woke up.

_So… heating pads would have to do for now. And warm blankets. Lots of warm blankets._ But he still needed to change her clothes, therefore undressing her was unavoidable.

However, her injury would take top priority, first of all.

And then…

_Then he’d start asking questions._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaay, suspense, mystery, dramaaaaa!!!! What's happening with Saeko? What did she just get poor ole Shimada into? Find out some time as we progress!!!!
> 
> Next chapter, we tune in back to the boys. _Finally_, let's find out what's going on with them. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, lovelies~~<3 Your Kudos and comments are deeply apprecitated! Really! I love each and every one of you who've left reviews and likes and all sorts of praises about my writing, you guys are honestly insane and I love ya'll to death!!! See ya next time!!!


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hinata has never felt so heavy, and something revealing goes on at the training camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm posting this late! I'm in the middle of exams right now, and I'm going to be busy till the next month, but I'll try my best to release the chapters accordingly! 
> 
> Please enjoy the chapter. Well.... as much as you can.

**7:00**

HINATA’s skin crawled continuously with the slithering sensation of darkness that resembled the one currently shadowed over the cell. It had been… _what?_ An hour? Two? He wasn’t sure. The seconds and minutes blurred into one continuous, pointless stream of passing periods. The space of time dulling and distorting, unclear one moment, and then hazy the next. He could barely register anything outside of his own body, except for the spot right in front of him, occupied by nothing but drenched cloth already seeped crimson red.

They’d been leaving them with wet rags that smelled probably of bleach for a few moments now, the first one at the corner outside the cell already soaked deep with blood.

It had been discarded not too long ago.

Right after they’d…

_Right after they’d…_

_“K-KAGEYAMA!_” _Hinata could feel his own throat croak hoarse from the cry that escaped him, his vision blurring and his heart bursting as the echoing gunshot resonated within his ears. _

_It was as though his soul had escaped his body._

It had been just like the dream. _It went right through the head. It went right in and didn’t stop bleeding and bleeding and bleeding. Not even when his pulse had grown cold. Not even when they had to open the gates and he was forced to release him so they could drag his body out of it. Not even before then… when his falling figure had landed right into his arms and he’d felt the still warm blood fill his hands and soak his clothes and—_

“… Hinata…” A gentle hand landed itself upon his shoulder, squeezing softly even when his attention had been grasped and his head had been partially pulled from the endless void of his spiraling mind. He turned to see Suga kneeling beside him, his pale, slightly-calloused hand planted right on top of his, which had been squeezing the rag before him till liquids were spilling back on to the floor and between his fingers. Slowly, he released the tension in his appendages and leaned back, watching the liquids—_all tinted red_—flow back into the fabric.

“Do you… want help?” Suga questioned, the pressure against his own hand turning lighter. “You’ve been at it for a while—” _He’s been at it since the beginning._ “—We… also want to help, Hinata. Is it okay?”

Hinata stared deeply into hazel eyes, seeing nothing but the shadow that dwelled within his own thoughts swim through his gaze, though hardened, _more hardened than his_, it looked like a slowly cracking shield, as though it was being used while still being constructed.

“Hinata—?”

“No,” he replied swiftly, returning his gaze back onto the rag in his hands, and continued sweeping it across the floor, back and forth. Back and forth till it was clean and grey. Back and forth till the red was gone from the grounds and wall and everything he bore on his skin washed away till he felt nothing. “I’m good. I can do it alone, Suga-san… It’s not that hard. I’m almost done anyway.”

From the corner of his vision, it looked as though the silver-haired third year was about to say something, but chose to refrain, leaning away from him, and leaving his hands to complete the mundane task.

_It was warm, only warm. Yet it felt like hot, steaming acid against his skin._

_It was like that one silent scene in a movie, every other voice and action dulled in comparison to the main climax taking center stage, the only thing louder than his thoughts, heavier than the broken fragments of his shattering mind being the life instantly seeping out of Kageyama’s… out of his partner’s… his best friend’s eyes…_

_It was seeing his body slump unnaturally, and watching it lean and lean till it fell to the side, and landed right in his arms, right into the arms already held out as though they knew they’d be reaching out to catch him himself. It was staring into dark empty, unseeing eyes, light that had once shone within them dying as quickly as they’d been taken out._

_He’d been… he’d been alive a second ago…_

** _Just a second ago…_ **

_How had—?!_

_“Kage…” His vision blurred once more before clarifying, his arms trembling the more he held his heavy body above them. “Kageyama…? No…” He hadn’t even registered the tears forming at the corners of his eyes, only feeling nothing except the warmth slowly dribbling away from him. “Is this a joke…? Kageyama… it’s not funny…”_

_Behind him, someone tried calling for his name, someone in the back was crying, someone at his side tried putting their hands on him._

_But it was all static. He couldn’t hear **anything**._

_“Kageyama… wake up already—” The intervals lying between the blurs continued to shorten, his palpitating heart increasing by the second. Coppery red bled out onto the floor, the blood soaking his clothes spreading and spreading to the point it seeped into the entirety of his shorts. “Kage—”_

_“Hinata… he’s… he’s—”_

_“NO!” he cried out, suddenly clutching his head closer to his chest, blood getting on his shirt. “No… He was awake last night,” He could feel his breaths leaving him in short bouts, trembling hands tightening their hold. “I-I couldn’t sleep… and he-he was really bad at it but—”_

_“Hinata—”_

_“But still—I felt better… _just a bit_… I felt better! He **can’t **be gone… not yet…” The tears were more now, pouring in heavy streams down his cheeks, cascading like surging waterfalls and dripping onto the floor in tiny droplets. “He can’t… …”_

Reaching just beyond the cell’s bars, he flung the drenched rag outside, watching it plop right beside the other one near the corner.

The spot where the first-year setter had once been was now cleared of all signs of his existence.

Hinata let out a sigh, and sat right on that spot.

_The abductors had opened the gates, and were going to collect Kageyama out of the cell._

_Smoker and Eyepatch had called in their other comrades, the Driver and the unnamed guy standing by the cells and pointing their guns to make sure no one pulled anything as the gate was being unlocked—as though all of them weren’t shocked stock still, chests heavy and compressed, air unable to flow in as much as it would leave._

_The door had been swung open, rusted hinges screeching in protest as it was pushed wide and a dirt-covered boot stepped into the cell._

_Bodies shifted away, some skidding to the other side of the cell, while some—like Hinata—remained still and unmoving, his arms still supporting his partner’s body, lips still whispering verses of denial and pleadings to an ear that couldn’t register his voice anymore._

_“Yo, kid.” He felt a boot prod against his side, but the deeper subconscious still locked in a battle between refutation and reality refused to respond to the action. Another prod, deeper, harder, kicked on his leg, and once again, his eyes didn’t avert. “Oi… let it go. You’re holding a corpse in your arms you know.”_

_As if on instinct, his arms squeezed even tighter around Kageyama._

_“Geez…” Smoker clicked his tongue, slowly lowering himself, unlit cigarette stuck between cracked lips. “You’re upset right? You guys were best friends, weren’t you?” he questioned, then crouched down fully, stooping low before him. “Don’t worry,” His voice lowered, shadow falling over his already dark eyes. “He died a quick and painless death.”_

_Hinata’s trembling muscles suddenly stilled, and his eyes veered upwards. Slightly. _

Painless…

_“H-he…” He felt his limbs finger, his hands trembling and tightening so much he couldn’t even feel it. He couldn’t feel anything, and yet, he was feeling so much. He was feeling too much “He wasn’t supposed to die at all!!!” _Cruel_, so cruel… how could he say that?? How could anyone do that—? “He was… _No_… Kageyama—” His voice broke out into a whimper, throat cracking with overwhelmed sobs. “No… don’t take him away—"_

_“Well… he’s dead now. What do you want to do? Keep him here?” Smoker scoffed, clicking his tongue once again and rolling his eyes. “I’m going to bury him. Wouldn’t you prefer that? Would you rather watch his body rot?”_

_Hinata could feel blood ooze through the torn skin of his broken bottom lip, his teeth further embedding themselves into his flesh, uncaring of how much it was supposed to hurt. _

_Because nothing hurt more than this._

_Nothing hurt more than the abductor’s soulless eyes, and his next set of words._

_“If it makes it better, consider this as him being freed,” he says, with all dismal condemnation, heavy, dark eyes revealing nothing within them. Just empty, hollow vacuums of nothingness. “He’s finally leaving the cell, isn’t he?”_

The spot between his knees blurred the more he glared at it as he fought to simply breathe.

_He’s finally leaving the cell_.

_Isn’t he…?_

Was that supposed to make him feel better? Relieved?

Would something even worse happen after now? Something that would make him want to die? Something that would make him wish he’d died before it happened?

_He couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t imagine any other thing that made him wish for death more than the heart shattering feeling of loneliness and sorrow still crushing against his being._ Nothing more made him feel so empty. Nothing more made him feel like….

Like **_nothing_**.

Right between his knees, his lips trembled, and he blinked away the blurring in his eyes that stung behind the orbs, slightly opening his lids and following the soulful descent of a single teardrop splash against the floor. The rest followed shortly, and soon enough he was trembling against the wall, shoulders shaking and every part of him quivering in vivid pain.

And he didn’t stop.

Not even as he felt a gentle pressure of hands lay itself atop his shoulders, others—arms, bodies—joining and increasing their weight on top of it, others resting above his head, and many others layering and layering above him still, until through the deadness, through the lingering feeling of sorrow squeezing his heart, drowning his resolve, he felt a little warmth, even in the midst of the frost spreading within and numbing his chest.

He felt a little warm.

_But it was just that. Just a little_.

\--`,`--

KUROO’s head sheened with a thin patina of sweat, cooled against his skin by the morning breeze after a relaxing, head-clearing jog around the campus.

The place was _huge_, each of the buildings spaced apart by several meters and the distance occupying the grounds a range of widespread, extensive roads, paths and vegetation. Even the buildings themselves were massive, the one they were currently residing within being over four floors tall and nearly 40,000 square meters, surrounded by pretty good and relaxing foliage and trees, set for a tranquil environment. The campus spread out throughout nearly half the mountain side, buildings, facilities of every source that he’d normally find in top-notch colleges in the world. Kuroo had even gotten lost trekking around the school grounds, having to ask one of the security for directions which had taken him an extra twenty minutes to retrace his steps back to his former route. By the time he’d come back to the building, the sun was fully out and his teammates were already having breakfast.

He waved at a Yuie, the manager from Fukorodani, before entering into the canteen, choosing not to comment on the rate at which she was currently scarfing down a whole double-fist-sized Onigiri.

“Yo, Captain!” Taketora waved at him from the left corner of the room, gesturing him over towards where the Nekoma players were sitting. He signaled back his reply, jogging lightly over and plopping down on the seat beside Yaku, the shorter turning towards him with a look that read various layers of fret.

Before Kuroo could ask what was wrong, the other was already parting his lips and firing away.

“Hey Kuroo, where’s Kenma?” he asked, sounding every bit as fussed as he looked though Kuroo hadn’t a clue why. “Didn’t you take him along with you?”

“Uh…” Kuroo frowned in response, itching his head and veering his eyes from one end of the table to the next. “No…? He doesn’t usually respond well when I wake him up at 5:00AM in the morning sooo…”

“That’s not the point,” Yaku says with a sigh. “He wasn’t in the room when we woke up this morning. And we haven’t seen him since last night.”

“He… might be lost…” Fukunaga suggested, not bringing any ease to the situation at all. Although, Kuroo nodded in agreement, contemplating his words.

“Yeah, this school _is _pretty big.” He put a finger to his chin. “Bet it’s not any different from our first training camp with Karasuno,” he looked up at them, dropping his hands. “He shouldn’t be too far away. Usually, if he finds himself lost, he doesn’t bother going any further. I’m sure I’ll find him sitting on a fence, or sidewalk or something,” he reassured, comforting both his teammates and himself as he walked away, partly ignoring Lev’s offer to take Kenma’s food if he wasn’t coming, and snickering to himself as Yaku responded for him with nothing but a jab to the taller’s stomach and smack on the head.

As Kuroo walked back through the halls, he spotted coach Naoi on a phone call, face contorted into a serious expression, steps quick and frantic as he walked from one end to the other, only sending Kuroo a single glance and continuing on as though he weren’t there. He frowned slightly at this, pausing mid-step to stare at the back of his retreating coach. _Wonder what’s wrong? Did it have to do with Karasuno? _He pondered, questioning if it actually even concerned them. If it did, he definitely had a lot more to worry about what with Kenma getting potentially lost in the middle of training camp.

Nevertheless, Kuroo resumed his exit, leaving behind his curiosity and confusion for a later date, and heading back out into the vast expanse of the school grounds.

He found Kenma about fifteen minutes later behind the bleachers of the sports center, ducked underneath a tree distinctly near one of the school gates, his form crouched on top flat slabs of rock, back hunched and eyes peering intensely at the video game console clutched in his hands. His thumbs moved quickly over the pads, gaze unblinking as light from the device flexed and curved over the glaze of his game-absorbed eyes. Kenma was probably playing the final boss battle of his most recent game, explaining his penetrating sole-focused concentration, and his inability to realize Kuroo was standing right behind him until he’d called out his name.

The game had nearly flown from his hands, swift fingers quick enough to hit the pause button before turning around to glare at Kuroo.

“Hey, we gotta head to the gym in about…” He estimated in his head. “Five minutes.”

Kenma’s narrowed eyes noticeably went to normal, the dull intensity of his glare lost amidst the swirl of realization. “Five…?”

Kuroo nodded, stretching out a hand to help the shorter stand up. “Yup. You were out for a while, you know.” he stated, shifting backwards and folding his arms, the breeze of the early morning dimming to accommodate the quickly brightening skies and oncoming heat of the day’s sun. The air was warmer than it had been less than an hour ago, definitely. He could feel it through the thin linen of his shirt.

_It’d be a good day for some drills,_ Kuroo thought, steps soft against the grass as he and Kenma made their way towards gravel. He looked up at the sky, ideas for the day’s training floating through his head while the other remained ever silent, trailing behind him, fingers busy with his phone—probably playing some mundane game to pass the time. _Yeah, definitely a good day. Maybe a little warm up outside to get our blood pumping and lungs working_. Five minutes maybe? Ten? Kenma would kill him if he raised it any higher than fifteen, but the first years need a lot of work in that regard. Lev was good because he was tall, but Tamahiko needed to work on his verticals, and he and Yaku trained thoroughly, however, Shibayama’s receives could be a little more solid, especially during their 4-2 formations, and definitely before the nationals in the next—

Kuroo visibly jolted as he felt a sharp tug against his shirt, his steps haltered halfway across the gravel road leading back to the gym building, and his brow arched as he paused and glanced behind to frown at his childhood friend. But before he could part his lips to utter a word, Kenma swiftly pointed past him in the direction of Coach Naoi’s running figure, who’d quickly rushed out of the gym building quicker than he’d ever seen him run, and down towards the North wing of the campus. His phone was clutched tightly in his hands like he’d just come back from a call as he ran towards the direction of faintly echoing sirens, steps haggard and fast and countenance worried.

The dark-haired captain stared at the running figure till it disappeared beyond his line of sight, a concerned frown creasing his features as he remembered the call the junior coach had been making a while before he’d left to search for Kenma.

The sirens continued to whir weakly through the air,

Fukorodani’s coach stood at the threshold of the gym doors, serious expression sweeping across his features as he stared after the receding coach as well, eyes quickly changing once his gaze landed on both him and Kenma in the near distance.

“Hey, you two!” he yelled, waving them over and gesturing for them to hurry up. “Warm up’s in five! Get a move on!”

Frowning and sharing a look with Kenma, Kuroo simply obliged and ran forward, jogging lightly till he reached the gymnasium and was greeted with the familiar echoes of volleyballs slamming against the polished wooden floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. 
> 
> (Almost hadn't posted this chapter. So glad I did so I could get it over with and move on finally.)
> 
> Next chapter comes out next week (hopefully)! Till then, thanks for reading! And happy Haikyuu!! Season 4!!!


	12. XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Kageyama's death, Suga begins to think he could have prevented it. Meanwhile, Yachi's keeping a secret she wishes to hide to protect the hearts of the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, she returns after a month and several weeks. Apologies for taking as long as this! I had writers block for a while so I only just polished up this chapter a few minutes ago. Please enjoy!!!  
Warning: Graphic depiction of gore, vomit, and self-blame (is that a warning tho?)

**9:00**

SUGA could still taste the lingering palates of vomit on his tongue with every breath he took. 

_The vivid image of splattered blood amongst smashed brain particles oozing out in chunks seemed to forever be embedded into his mind._

He wasn’t going to deny he’d been the first to throw up.

He could still feel crusts of stomach bile and the small amount of nearly digested food staining the edges of his lips, could still see the dried traces of his own vomit resting over desiccated splatters of blood that had made its way onto his shirt. Despite the clothing being nearly ash grey, the crimson red of the fluid remained as vivid as the clear sky. His stomach hadn’t stopped churning since the first moment he felt droplets of his kouhai’s blood land against his face.

And Daichi’s hand, since that moment, hadn’t left his.

Suga was grateful for his ever-existing presence, the grounding manner in which his hand encased his, holding and squeezing and lingering whenever it needed to, although he was more than certain the captain himself needed to be grounded as much as he did.

Because at the first sound of the gunshot, his hand had reached for his, and it had squeezed tighter than he’d ever felt before.

It had been the same moment Hinata had screamed. The same moment Yachi and Noya and Tanaka had yelled out a helpless, desperate _“NO!_” voices hoarse and frantic and fearful. The same moment Yamaguchi had covered his ears and looked away, tears already gathered underneath his eyes as Tsukishima himself looked on unblinking, eyes dilated and lips thinned as though in absolute, unwavering shock. The same moment Kiyoko had turned away, and Ennoshita’s outstretched hand lingered and quivered in the air as though surprised it had been unable to reach him, and Asahi’s shocked still, widened eyes and widely parted mouth barely released choked sounds as if unable to scream or speak or utter a sound at the scene splayed out before them all. At that moment, Narita had crouched down and held his hands above his head in a useless bid to save himself.

And Suga had jerked back against the wall as if to escape the oncoming spray of crimson, tears already cascading down his cheeks and stomach churning horridly as he unwillingly registered what had just occurred before his eyes.

_When the body had slumped, landing just barely against Hinata, dangled head arched backwards, his eyes though dull, unseeing and lifeless, had felt like it was staring right through his very being._

Although now, alone with his thoughts as he could do nothing but place a comforting hand on Hinata’s back, the only things he could focus on aside from Hinata’s still trembling body were the slowly moving images that now repetitively played out at the forefront of his own mind, each scene presenting a focus on the centerpiece of their traumatic scenarios.

_The brief, split-second of Kageyama’s terror as he saw the gun pointed at him._

_The frightening, heart-wrenching manner in which Hinata had cried out in despair. _

_The blood that covered and coated nearly half of the cell floor, _

_(Red and deep and warm but like boiling acid against his skin and poison in his eyes.)_

_The leery, disturbing voice of the Eyepatch as he slurred out his name like a demon’s curse._

_“**Suga… who would you miss the least?**”_

_Choose Suga—_

_Choose who you’re going to kill._

_Whoever dies is your choice. It’s your fault. Your doing._

It was all his fault.

He’d been forced to choose, _and no matter how **unfair **it was_, he’d ended up choosing. At the end of it all, he’d sentenced someone to their death—

**_He_**_ chose Kageyama._ He’d killed his kouhai. By not sacrificing himself first, Kageyama died, and his heart squeezed agonizingly at the painful realization, the hand against Hinata’s back growing numb as he felt it shake once more, fingers pressing desperately into the surface they lay upon. _He’s gone_. Sudden tears sprang to his eyes, jaw clenching in a bid to muffle the sob that threatened to escape. _He’s gone. I’m so sorry, Hinata_. Suga shut his eyes as though it would stop the tears from escaping, pulling his hand away from Daichi and pressing his palm tightly against his mouth, just then dampening the sob that barely escaped his throat.

_I’m so sorry_. _I’m so, so sorry…_

“Suga…”

_I didn’t want him to die…_

“Suga, please…”

_I really didn’t… Hinata. _He cried as he felt a hand rest over his head, strong and sturdy, yet warm and comforting, a similar hand lightly grasping his wrist, pulling it away from where he tried muffling his pitiful sobs. Before he could take back his limb, the hands travelled to his face, grasping both sides and gently forcing him to look up from the ground.

“Stop that, Suga…” _Daichi. _His eyes, glossed over with still falling tears blinked rapidly at the figure before him. _Daichi… he’s… _“Don’t ever say that! Don’t blame yourself.” It seemed like the captain’s eyes were just as glossy, unshed tears scarcely gathered at the corners, but never once dropping. “You didn’t kill him. No one here thinks that…!”

_Ah…_

_He’s crying._

“So… I don’t want to hear that again, Suga.” His hands cuddled even tighter over his face; their noses almost close enough to touch that he could feel the air escaping the other’s in deep, long breaths. “Do you understand?”

Suga, feeling his voice nearly choke on air could barely utter a sound, too astounded by the captain’s resolute, unyielding nature.

_He was so weak… It’s why he needed him. Over and over, again and again_.

“Do you understand, Suga?” he asked once more, this time, the intensity of his voice a little quieter, hands slowly softening their grasp against his wet, tear-stained cheeks. Suga managed a nod in response, still feeling his fingers shake and his resolve—nearly on the brink of shattering—saving itself.

“Yeah…” He nodded even more firmly, raising his hand to hold onto one of the one’s resting against his face. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” Daichi said, breathing out a sigh of relief as he rubbed against his eyes, clearing the tears from his cheeks and clearing away the blurriness obscuring his vision.

“I’m glad you’re alive, Suga-san…” a subtle voice muttered, and he shifted to peer over at Hinata, deep, brown orbs dulled to a depressing shade of almost inhibiting darkness trained completely on him. Suga pursed his lips, released a breath, then stretched his lips into a small smile. _It’s not fair that he has to look that way_. _And a little bit of it was his fault, wasn’t it? _No matter what anyone said, they were unhappy about it all. But of course Hinata was the most distraught.

They’d been close, after all.

“Thanks, Hinata,” he placed his hand back onto his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly in a forlorn epitome of comfort. It was all he could do, with how he was now, after all.

“I’m glad you’re alive too.” 

\--`,`--

YAMAGUCHI uttered a tired “I’m okay,” as Suga, their designated team ‘mom’, took inventory for the second time during their abduction, most likely three or four hours after they’d come in to murder their teammate. Not that he’d know the exact time. The lot of them had been expecting to play a game as soon as they arrived on the training camp so none of them had bothered with wearing a watch—_They had their phones, after all_. The only one that had bothered had been Takeda-sensei, but he’d long since been killed alongside their coach.

He wondered if the three of them were together now, all the way up in Heaven maybe.

_Or you know, wherever the afterlife was._

Tsukishima beside him was quiet, eyes closed and breathing even—a brittle attempt at sleep, even though he could tell the taller was as awake as he was at the moment.

“Uh—um…Yamaguchi-kun,” Yachi, voice timid and quiet, muttered beside him, her knees drawn up and back against the wall as she sat leaning on the bars, right on the other half of the second cell.

“Oh, Yachi?” He averted his gaze, attention trained on the shorter manager as he replied. He waited as she sniffed, pressing the heel of her palm against her eye.

“Things haven’t been okay have they…?” Yachi says quietly, and Yamaguchi felt the familiar throb at the back of his eyes.

“A-and I know Kageyama just died but…” she continued, but then trailed off, nearly turning away as though she was afraid of whatever she was about to say, voice cut off at the mention of their late teammate. Yamaguchi, curious however patient, waited silently, keeping his gaze on her person as she struggled over her next set of words.

“I think I heard something…” she said, wringing her fingers. Yamaguchi’s interest and curiosity pikes. Yachi continued. “Last night, when you guys were asleep… on the other side of the wall, those guys were talking about…” He could promptly sense the nervousness emanating from Yachi’s diminutive mannerisms, and on instinct leaned in closer, even more deeply engrossed in the topic of conversation. Her voice was lowered this time, reduced to a whisper only audible between the two of them. “They were talking about finding someone… I think its Kinoshita.”

“What?”

“Th-they were saying something about that person being dead,” she whimpered while she hugged her knees closer. “I didn’t want to keep it to myself, and Kiyoko-san’s already doing a lot for me. I-I mean… we just lost Kageyama-kun…” she rubbed against her eyes again, this time wiping away the tears gathering up at the corners. “I didn’t want to tell the others yet. I don’t know if they’ll be able to take more…. A-and Suga-san’s already blaming himself…”

Eyes widened, Yamaguchi took in her words, leaning back. “Yachi-san… are you sure? Kinoshita can’t be—”

The door to their holding cells whined, and the deep-seated fear he’d come to associate with the existence of their abductors intensified, made even worse as not long after, the unfortunately familiar presence of the dirty-blonde haired Bandana followed immediately, steps heavy and presence dreary as he grouched while walking in, carrying a small brown bag in his hands.

Not too far from Yamaguchi, someone growled.

Behind him, the Leader walked in, a medium sized sack thrown over his shoulder. His hair was thrown back in a hair tie, jacket discarded and worn around his waist, leaving him in a dirty, worn-out looking tank top, showing off arms that looked heavy enough to snap someone’s neck into several fractures. Yamaguchi didn’t want to imagine facing that.

“How are you guys holding up?” Leader asks, dropping the sack and staring thornily at the lot of them, as though he was taking in each of their individual states. No one answered, of course. The question was nothing else if not rhetorical. “I see, not good huh?” He kept his hands on his hips, almost sounding regretful as he continued. “Sorry that you had to lose a friend. He looked like he had more life to live, could have been a lucky guy in the future if he wasn’t here… but you see, it was for a good cause,” he explained, like that was going to instantly fix anything. “By taking his life, I’m saving something more important to me. You’d do the same to keep yourself alive, wouldn’t you?”

“_Shut up_.”

It was sudden, unexpected at best, but not as surprising as he’d thought it would have been, coming from the very same area he’d heard the prior growl originate from.

The Leader and Bandana paused any former motion they might have been making to stare over at the general direction of the voice, and Yamaguchi flinched back and tried his best to hide himself, even though they’d been looking over at Noya-san and nowhere else.

“_You… you assholes_…”

“Noya!”

“_You think this is okay?!_ _You murdered a 16-year-old kid!!!_” he yelled, shoving Daichi’s hand off his shoulder at his attempt to stop what he was about to do. “You took away his life it was nothing! _You think we care about your shitty reasons?_” He watched the second-year’s clenched fists shake, red in the eyes as his burning gaze glared at them with an intent to kill.

Nishinoya! That’s enough!” Daichi tried again, forcefully pulling him down and holding him back, keeping a firm hand on his shoulder as he was held down. Noya looked like he was about to shove Daichi back again, anger seething in his countenance as he glared at the captain. Yamaguchi almost thought the younger would, with the way his fists still quaked and his jaw still clenched with gritted teeth.

Deeply engrossed in the actions of the libero, he’d nearly missed Bandana raising his shot gun and aiming for the second-year’s head.

The gunshot rang loudly in his ears, and once again he found himself covering them, crouching down as his heart leaped out of his mouth, chest aching with rapid palpitations. There were screams again, louder, shocked, desperate screams, and Yamaguchi was almost afraid to open his eyes to see the mess of blood and death.

_They’d just lost their teammate… they couldn’t—they couldn’t take another one…!_

“You wanna die kid?!” Bandana’s voice rang out in annoyance, and the freckled teen, still shaken, dared to risk a peek and opened an eye.

Noya was alive.

He almost sighed in relief, but beside him, on the wall, it looked like someone had punched it, or carelessly driven a nail through the cement, as from the center of impact, cracks and fissures of several lengths spread outwards a certain distance, dusts of broken concrete falling from the damaged area and onto the floor, a lone, silver bullet embedding itself into the wall right at the impact’s center. _He’d shot at the wall_.

“Why don’t you keep your mouth shut you fucking brat, or we won’t be merciful enough to shoot you in the head,” Bandana spat, scowling at Noya who glared right back, although he seemed more shaken up than anything at the prospect of nearly being shot. “Same goes for all of ya! Understand?!” He punched his fist against the railings violently enough to make it tremble, now glaring at everyone in the cell, infuriation apparent in his irritated glower. Everyone almost seemed to gulp at his fearsome presence, more than unsettled at the threat the man’s being simply imposed.

“_Oi…_ _answer me!_”

At that, their agitated, apprehensive voices forced out a parody of a positive reply, hoping to placate the man that looked as though he wanted to beat them senseless more than his anger would allow. However, Bandana growled again, punching the bars once more and barking out another command.

“_I want a ‘Yes sir’!_”

“Yes sir…!” Yamaguchi didn’t even know when he’d yelled, just that he did, almost like his body was being driven by fear and despondency alone. Bandana screamed again.

“_Louder!_”

“_Yes sir!!!_”

“Good,” the male, satisfied although he didn’t look it, huffed out, glower less intensified as he backed away from the cell by a few steps, folding his arms and fixing on a less pissed off expression. The Leader who’d been merely observing the entire scene play out simply released a tired sigh, before raising the sack he’d been carrying from his shoulders and holding it up.

“Well, now that _that’s_ all over,” he shook the sack, bringing it to his front and untying the opening of the bag, a smile unfitting of his conniving features quirked up his lips as he shook it elatedly. “Whose hungry?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hinata was too out of it to notice everyone else’s reactions. Thankfully, Suga did. (No baby you're not weak.)  
I swear I love Suga and I really didn’t mean to hurt him (she says as she maps out several scenarios in which Suga suffers and cries and everyone’s sad). Also, Yachi gets some screen time _yaaay!_ And also, also, Daisuga _yaaaaaay!!!_ Although we’re hoping Kino isn’t actually dead…
> 
> Me: Would you rather have Eyepatch and Smoker duo, or Bandana and the Leader?  
Friend: How about the Driver and the nameless guy?  
Me:  
Me: Who? 
> 
> Lol sorry again that this took so long! Thankfully, a comment I received yesterday urged me to up my game so now I think I’m back. Honestly wasn’t my best chapter since I haven’t written in weeks, but thankfully, next chapter is much better and should be posted maybe a few days from now. See ya’ll next week!
> 
> Pls comment below if you'd like an excerpt or would rather wait a little longer for the full chapter!


	13. XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinoshita finds out he's no longer lost in the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;-; I'm never promising another early update again. (I think I seriously need a beta)
> 
> Sorry for taking my time! I literally don't have a schedule obstructing too much of my time now so it was really more or less a lack of inspiration holding most of me back. I've had to rewrite this chapter more than three times, and edited it like, twice. I'm honestly tired of looking at the words at this point. Luckily, the next chapter is already underway, although I can't predict when that'll be released. In the mean time, I've written out another story. Its called 'Try Again'. Feel free to check it out if you like 😅
> 
> Pray for me pls :')

**16:00**

KINOSHITA woke up, leaned to the side,

And then proceeded to throw up.

_Agh…! _He clenched his throat._ It burns…_

His throat seared painfully as he coughed against the cool hard floors he laid upon, feeling as though he’d swallowed a veil of acid, and his stomach, burning in tandem, ensued to reject it from his system completely. A bout of nausea and headaches comparable to nails driving through his skull plowed down on him, a persistent ache enveloping every inch of his bones, muscles and joints making him wish to be welcomed by the sweet croons of unconsciousness so he wouldn’t have to bear the pain enveloping him for another minute. He shifted, wincing as he felt a sharp pain in his side. His skin of his cheeks stung like hell. _And his face_… _did he break it?_ It hurt to open his eyes, _it hurt just to breathe, every twitch of his muscles had him wanting to bury himself in a mound of icepacks_.

To be frank, Kinoshita had never felt closer to death than he did now.

_Except maybe the time he’d rolled down a hill_.

_How was he still alive again?_

Kinoshita groaned and coughed wetly, his body trembling. _Great, he was obnoxiously cold too_.

He could feel it everywhere, inexplicable chills seeping through his skin, into his veins, and across every aching, brittle bone despite the hot, uncomfortable pain he could feel gripping him still. _Did he have a fever? _Kinoshita curled up instinctively when a sudden spell of icy tremors wracked his body. _God… he was so cold_… He brought his knees towards his chest, wanting to be warm more than anything, and tried to wrap himself up whole with his arms, willing the cold to go away.

Except his arms didn’t move from where they were lain behind him, and it was only after he’d pulled, attempting once more to shift his aching limbs, that he found they’d been rendered immobile by force.

Kinoshita in his pain induced haze, peeked below swollen eyelids, and proceeded to glance around his current environment.

It took him over a minute to realize he was no longer outside.

_Huh…_

Last he remembered, he’d been by a narrow stream, eyes, cheeks and neck burning from where he’d been stung by a swarm of wasps after he’d attempted climbing a tree to gain a better sense of direction. His leg, alongside the bruised, aching ankle, donned a severe gash from where he’d lacerated it through a poking bush branch, the rest of his limbs sporting a few other cuts and grazes of several lengths from his attempt at running away from the torturous insects.

_Clearly, he hadn’t exactly been lucky, in that regard._

As far as he could recall, after he’d been assaulted by poisonous stings on the majority of his face, he’d had to walk in prickly, sweltering, pain for hours till he’d found a stream of flowing water. He’d never once thought he’d be happy to see a slightly muddy stream enveloped by rocks, grime and algae in the middle of a forest—given he was… well_… lost _in said forest—but there he’d been, content in picking up a fistful of wet mud from the stream’s bank, and sighing in gratification as he put the cold, wet filth to his smarting bruises and swelling stings. Kinoshita remembered having cried throughout.

After that he’d lain on the ground, his cheeks pressed against the cool mud, eyes closing as he felt the painful aches recede, however slightly.

He’d fallen asleep, shortly afterwards.

Someone must have found him and carried him away from there, then. Kinoshita wasn’t sure to be thankful—as he could imagine himself rolling into the stream and drowning if he’d slept for just a little longer—or if he should be afraid that he’d been carried off in the first place. He was, after all, being hunted down. He couldn’t afford to be captured. He was supposed to have found help, rescued his friends, and gone back home, training camp or no training camp.

And being tied down like this, by what had to be the scratchiest ropes on Earth, meant he’d failed in running away. Again. That he’d been caught. _Again_.

_Dammit_…

_Why did he have to go through this shit?_

Kinoshita jerked his arms in the ropes, hissing when a sharp twinge travelled through his joints. He couldn’t escape.

He felt so tired, so weak, so unbearably _cold_. Kinoshita could barely raise his head from the floor. He hurt **everywhere**. He couldn’t feel any relief besides the double-edged sword that was the cold, cement beneath his cheek, partially cooling off his stings and wounds, but failing him in his search for the barest modicum of warmth.

Kinoshita closed his eyes, and curled closer into himself. He breathed slowly, making sure his maybe-fractured ribs didn’t move too much or too quickly.

_He wanted to go home_.

The thought of home had the back of his eyes prickling, memories of warm hugs and the voices of his mother and little brother making the prickling swell and dissolve into thin tears that rolled down his unfeeling face.

_He wanted to go home. _He sniffed, and then coughed, feeling his throat burn from the action of trying to choke back a sob._ But he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to_. He’d certainly die if he tried surviving on his own again. And he didn’t want to die. _But he didn’t know what to do_.

If he escaped, Kinoshita was sure he’d end up dead, if not, severely wounded and marred from his sheer lack of survival skills. He didn’t even have the skills to make a fire, and wouldn’t be able to, even if he wasn’t currently tied up in a dark room. _And what kind of idiot got himself chased by wasps? Was he that incompetent?_

Well, he’d ended up here in the end. So he probably was.

Kinoshita grimaced at his contemplations of self-worth and rolled more of his forehead on the ground. _There was no way he was getting out of here. He might as well give up_. He regretted it instantly as pain shot up from his nose and spread to every feeling muscle, shooting up to his head and adding to the already pestering aches overwhelming his body.

_Right… his nose was still broken_. He released a wet sigh through cracked, chapped lips. _He’d almost forgotten he’d managed to break his nose_… It still hurt, the bridge feeling enflamed, swollen and disjointed all at once.

To think that he’d managed to hurt himself this much, and to the point of _incapacitation_. Kinoshita couldn’t help but grovel at how little he’d been able to handle himself out there at all. Broken nose… bruises and lacerations… wasp stings… starved…. Possibly sickened with a fever. Even if he wasn’t currently thinking of home, if his teammates were counting on him to find help, he didn’t want to imagine the depth of their disappointments should they see him as he was in this state.

Because as far as he knew, he wasn’t getting anywhere.

Kinoshita laid alone in the dark, daydreaming of the day he’d be reunited with his friends and family, as he tried to stave of the cold.

Several minutes had passed before the loud creaking of rusted, crying hinges startled him out of a poorly attempted sleep, his body restless from the underlying fear accompanied by pains he no longer fought to ignore. He opened swollen eyelids to peer through the space of the area, the prior dimness somewhat brightened as the presence of an orange, glowing light pierced through the thick black that encompassed the room. From his point of view, it appeared as though it was floating mid-air, although he knew there was someone was holding it at a distance.

Someone new had entered the room.

He tried not to panic, thoughts running rampant as he went through every possibility of who they were and what was about to happen now that they were here.

_The likeliest possibility was that it was the person that captured him in the first place_. Because who else could it even be? Was it alright to entertain the idea that someone had come to rescue him?

Was it possible?

Kinoshita, curious about the figure although not enough to warrant heir attention, stayed still, aching eyes following every movement of the lamp and the figure behind it, watching warily as they only seemed to inch closer and closer towards him, each step light yet heavy in his ears.

Holding his position didn’t come so easy as the person crouched down, and the light shined directly into his eyes. He couldn’t help the flinch he’d given when their hand only came nearer to his face, and touched it, cold fingers pressing lightly against his forehead soon after, alerting the newcomer that he was indeed awake.

Kinoshita had half-expected the figure to greet him with some level of hostility, for giving them the trouble of looking for him in the first place, considering they were who he guessed they were. He’d ran away after all, despite the warning of getting shot. He’d ran without even knowing what he was doing, where he was going, and how he was going to rescue himself and his friends. He’d gotten himself lost and injured and incapacitated. And now he was here, facing the person that had captured him and was probably going to return him to his teammate’s captors soon enough. To be frank, it was a scarier situation than he’d initially realized.

_What were they going to do to him, once he was back in their clutches?_

As Kinoshita let his thoughts roam through the possibilities of his future demise, he hadn’t anticipated the fingers that brushed lightly against his skin and face, a certain amount of care in the gesture he hadn’t expected to receive at all. He hadn’t expected the person to speak to him in such a calm voice either. “_Hey, kid_…” He’d almost thought he’d been kidnapped by the wrong person.

The people that took his teammates only spoke with the intention to hurt them.

“Y’alright, kid?” It was a male, tone somewhat gentle despite the rough, gravelly timbre that came along with it, like someone who’d been smoking for years and had recently just quit. The man’s fingers moved from his forehead, to the cheek pressed against the floor, exerting a light enough pressure to force Kinoshita’s face upwards. He winced uncomfortably at the touch.

Regardless of how careful the man tried to be, the inflammations on his cheeks still stung like it had been lit on fire, and he couldn’t suppress the groan that escaped his lips, teeth grit in uncontained pain at the action.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man apologized, although without letting go of his face, moving the lamp and dropping it somewhere on the floor so it made a subtle _clank _a distance away. Without the presence of the thing shining directly into his eyes, he could now make out the features of the male, who seemed to be examining him, noting the dark, raggedy clothes and black, tousled hair that must not have been combed in a month. He had a thin, scabbing injury that cut from beside his left eye to his ear, and a roughness to his appearance that gave off the vibe of either a veteran war soldier, or a dangerous escaped convict. For Kinoshita, it only ever went either way.

He flinched and hissed again as he felt a sudden stab that shot through his skull once he shifted to face the ceiling, clenching his teeth and squeezing his eyes as he waited for the startling pain to subside. He curled into himself, only to feel minimal stabs of discomfort pierce his stomach, chills wracking his body right after. Kinoshita simply forced himself to ride out the waves of pain crashing over his body, feeling his jaw quiver from the feeling of being overwhelmed by it. _God… it hurt so much_.

It especially hurt to breathe.

He wondered if his possibly fractured ribs were worse than he’d thought.

“You’re damn lucky, you know kid?” The man’s voice broke through the feint silence of the room, shifting his attention away from his beat-up body towards the other guy’s spoken words. Kinoshita blinked, frowning as much as he could in his slowly diminishing pain, brows furrowed in confusion, because _how on earth was he lucky?_

He didn’t consider being split up from his friends—though that had been his decision and his alone—_one he’d come to slowly regret_—as a sort of ‘luck’ in any form. In fact, this entire upheaval was the universe trying to punish him for some mistake he’d made in his past life. Or this life, most likely. He still remembered when he and some neighborhood kids had caused trouble for one of the new neighbors when they wanted to take down and move into the place they’d called their secret hideout—not really so secret as it was merely an abandoned building that they liked to play ‘haunted house’ in, despite the danger the building itself posed to others. Nevertheless, it had been their fortress, untouchable and reliable, and it had belonged to them.

Having someone else take it away, especially without knowing its worth to him had hurt badly, and they’d ended up puncturing the poor man’s tires, and throwing rocks at the windows whenever he was around. He’d thought it was funny before, and deemed his actions clearly justified despite how rotten he was being.

Not that he could sympathize with his seven-year-old self any longer. The building had been collapsing long before he’d found it. They were probably doing them a favor.

Kinoshita would undoubtedly have died there, had he continued to play in it.

“I’ll have to patch you up…” the other male’s voice dragged him back to the present once more, again, feeling fingers press against his forehead. “You’re burning up pretty badly, and,” The hand moved to his arm, dragging up a sleeve to inspect the cuts and bruises littered there. Kinoshita hadn’t thought it necessary if the sleeve itself was almost if not already in pieces. “You’re hurt pretty much everywhere else.” He let go of his sleeve and leaned back against his heels, eyes seemingly focusing on every battered inch of himself. “I’m wondering if the rope was even necessary. You can’t move, can you?”

Kinoshita parted his lips in in an effort to reply, but only ended up coughing and spluttering on the floor, his throat searing once again, and bile and water drooling from his mouth and joining the other vomit patch on the ground. All the while, as his stomach gurgled and his head pounded and tears pricked at his eyes, the man’s hand went to his sweaty back, expression remaining unflinching and straight-faced despite his impermanent suffering.

The hand placed gently on his back was somewhat grounding and comforting in a way, even though the dark-haired male looked less sympathetic and more like he was waiting for Kinoshita to finish.

“You okay?” he asked a minute later, after he’d calmed down some, Kinoshita struggling to draw in needed gulps of air despite the pressure it exerted on his ribs. It felt broken. _It was definitely broken_.

It took a moment, but he managed a nod, and the man hummed, responding in kind. “Good.” He stood up, hands grasping at the lamp by his side and lifting it off the floor. “Good,” he repeated, steps receding as he proceeded to walk away. _Was he leaving? _Kinoshita, to his surprise, felt himself panic, slightly jostling his arms as he moved to face the man. He didn’t trust the man. But he didn’t want to be left alone in the dark again.

“W-wait.” His throat felt scratchy and sore, tender and achy enough that it hurt to talk. He turned to the male’s retreating figure. “My hands…”

The man paused and put down the lamp some feet away, barely gracing him with a reply as he bent down and picked something off the floor. “I know.” He seemed to linger as he inspected the item in his hands, Kinoshita curious as to what he was carrying as he dropped it and retrieved something of similar shape, stretching his arms outwards to inspect it with a thoughtful tilt to his head. Before Kinoshita could begin trying to guess what the dark-haired man was doing, he’d flicked his wrists, unfurling the item to be a big, dark bedspread, large enough to stretch over two futons. He blinked.

Was that for him?

The man shook the blanket some more in his hands as if to rid it from dust, before he picked up the lamp, walked back to Kinoshita, and then dropped the lamp again.

“Here.” He bent a little, holding the still-dusty blanket over him, and then lowering it till it encased everywhere else beneath his neck. Kinoshita felt it settle over him, the hardness of the cloth somewhat uncomfortable, but highly welcome as he felt the surrounding cold dwindle in the thickness of the sheet. He stared up at the man, wanting to question why he was covering him in the first place, when he was beat to it. “You’re cold, aren’t ya?”

Kinoshita let the surprise show in his widened eyes.

The man didn’t wait for his response. “Figured you’d be after lying in soaked dirt for hours.” He leaned back up, putting his hands to his hips as he stared down at him, Kinoshita frowning as he watched him kick the extra parts of the huge blanket with his foot closer to his lying figure, closing off the pockets so air couldn’t enter through the sides. “Just lay here for a bit. I’ll untie you when I get back.” And without anything else, he stepped back and walked away, leaving Kinoshita to wonder what exactly the dark-haired male’s deal was. He didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt him.

He’d given him a blanket, and had left the lamp on the floor, providing him with light so he didn’t have to stay in the dark.

_Was it out of sympathy? Did he just feel sorry for him and decided to let him recover before he was taken to back his teammate’s imprisoners?_

Or… another motive, maybe?

Kinoshita felt a tiny spark of hope light anew within the mist of apprehension. A small part of him hoped he’d been found by someone who’d just wanted to help him, and had nothing to do with the people that had his team.

Even if the man had been the one to tie him up in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there it is. Thanks for reading <3<3<3  
I was honestly planning on leaving this at a cliffhanger but I decided to save that for the next chapter so I wouldn't have to draw this out for longer. See you guys next week (hopefully).
> 
> On the other hand, I really need me a beta. 
> 
> Catch me on twitter @ThatgirlAnnie1 and on Tumblr @fanfictionbystar


	14. XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma receives Shoyou's last sent message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SIGHHHH why did it take me so long to post this? That's cause my laptop's being having connectivity issues and hence, took me three days longer. BUT, it would have taken much, much longer than that if it wasn't for my new and wonderful Beta SnowTrue. So with thanks to them, I offer you chapter 14. Not much angst, tho its more like a buildup.
> 
> (Yeah, so remember that hurriedly typed message sent by Hinata back in chapter one?)

**21:32**

KUROO felt twinges of annoyance buzz beneath his skin as the chatter of his teammates rang across the room, barely muffled despite how hard he tried to press the two pillows against his ears.

This had been going on since _morning_.

Ever since the news of the ambulance had gone around the camp, no one had been able to shut up about whoever the occupant of the vehicle had been. There were speculations, theories and implausible facts drawn about every break they took, when they hadn’t been playing and concentrating on the game, and not a single soul could be bothered to get their minds off it. Especially his team.

“So really, who do you think it is?” That was Shibayama, ever the curious one, his voice loud and light even with the subtle attempt at whispering as he spoke to the others. “Do you think it’s someone important? Is that why they haven’t told us yet?”

“No way! Why would an important person be anywhere near the school?” Lev’s reply was as loud as his personality, the middle-blocker’s limb poking against his side for the fifth time as he gesticulated wildly. Kuroo fought the urge to turn and kick him in the stomach in retaliation.

From his other side, Inuoka bounced from where he sat on his heels. “What if it’s the school’s principal? What if he got into an accident… or something?”

“Don’t you remember? Coach said he was on a vacation,” Lev replied. “There’s no way he’d have been here either.”

“It could have been a random person.”

“But Fukunaga-san, coach looked way too depressed today. No way it’s just a random person!” Inuoka countered, leaning forward and raising his volume as though the male he was speaking to wasn’t _right next to him_. “He was out of it during practice too…! What if I was right and—”

“For the last time, it’s not his wife! Coach Naoi isn’t even married!” Yaku screamed from all the way across the room, sounding just as exasperated with the recurring conversation as Kuroo felt at that current moment. He felt relief descent over his innermost being as the maddened libero forced them to put their incessant conversations to a cease. “And he doesn’t have a girlfriend either so shut up already! We have to get up early tomorrow dammit!”

“But Yaku-san, don’t you wanna know who it is?”

“Of course I do.” The third-year sighed, tone softening, folding his arms and laying back down against the futon. “But we’re not getting answers like this anyway. The problem’s a bit too serious so I think we’ll probably find out who it is tomorrow.”

“But—”

He swore he’d heard a vein pop. “I said go to sleep!”

“I’m heading to the kitchen…” Kuroo murmured to particularly no one, rising up from the ground and carefully excavating himself from the conundrum that was the Nekoma team, stepping over Kenma buried underneath a mountain of blankets on his way to the door, and sighing in relief once he stepped foot into the quiet, darkened hallways of the class block.

It was such a stark difference, the echoing silence that veiled over the rest of the building that contrasted the noisy inference of his team’s room. It was encompassing, adorned with the shadows that coated the corners and spaces moonlight couldn’t dare to reach. This, along with the deafening quiet made the hallways elongate like a scene torn out of the makings of a horror movie. It was almost testing to tell the difference between reality and the imaginations bidden by his increasing paranoia. Kuroo rubbed his fingers against his eyes.

The stress. It was the stress.

And a warranted one at that, given the Karasuno team was yet to arrive or communicate with them, and the second day of the training camp was already ending.

Kuroo could have watered it down to minor complications, like road blocks or constructions further elongating their journey, or the bus breaking down midway and having to stop for a while to make repairs, or communication being down or disconnected at a point—the latter being the case at times as a few moments, he wasn’t able to get a proper signal. But the times he’d managed…? _The lines had been shut off_.

It was ominous and downright strange, especially considering the fact that _all _of Karasuno’s phones seemed to have been shut off as well. They’d all tried calling them, the ones in each team who’d managed to snag at least one of the Karasuno members’ contacts, and had all come back with the same report.

It wasn’t a ‘_no signal_’, or a ‘_missed call_’. Their phones… just weren’t available.

It was enough to cause a fit of unrest to buzz underneath the surface of their skins.

It was why the entire training camp was in this state of continual unending turbulence once they’d heard of the ambulance that had picked up an injured body on the road at around 7:00AM in the morning. Because of their need for answers after getting absolutely _nothing_ for a while, they’d latched on to this. Latched on to the speculation that this could be their key to finding out why Karasuno hadn’t been in reach till now, that this recent occurrence could solve their ever-growing thirst for answers that they could not acquire on their own. And as much as Kuroo wanted to refute the notion that anything involving Karasuno could have been inside the emergency vehicle, possibly wavering atop the blurred lines between life and death, he couldn’t help but want to find some closure as well.

Kuroo, buried so deep in thought, hadn’t considered finding another being in the kitchen until he’d come across the figure currently leaning against the bottom of the counter and nursing a cup half-full of water in their hand, and a phone in the other.

“Kenma…?” He quirked up a brow as confusion took precedence over his thoughts, slightly surprised at finding the setter in there when he was sure he’d been— “I thought you were asleep back at the room.” _Had that been a pillow shoved into the sheets?_ “What are you doing here?”

The other had jumped lightly at the emergence of Kuroo’s presence, but however hadn’t averted his gaze from the phone clutched tightly in his grasp. His finger scrolled up and down his screen, eyes roaming over the chatlog shown on the display. Kuroo was about to ask another leading question, more than curious as to why his best friend was currently holding the device in his grasp and was going over it like he was trying to decrypt complicated code. However Kenma beat him to it, shifting in his seated position and angling the phone off to the side so he could see more of the screen’s contents.

“It’s Shoyou.”

Kuroo was crouched by Kenma’s side faster than he could blink.

“The little shrimp?” He glared questioningly, frowning as he leaned forward and gazed over at the conversation on the screen, at the last remitted message which had been sent the previous day. Sometime around 3:20PM. Kenma had nodded in response to his query, then pointed at the last message the short middle blocker had sent at the near bottom of the log.

**Shoyou:**

**Hwkp**

“Shoyou sent this to me, right before he stopped responding.” He then pointed at the messages Kenma himself had left, _‘What does that mean? Is your autocorrect broken?’ ‘You still there?’ ‘Signal’s weird, we’ll talk later’_

_‘You guys didn’t come today. Is everything okay?’_

An attempt to get in contact with the male who’d, all of a sudden, gone offline after sending what had to be the scariest last message he could have ever sent. He gulped as he stared intensely at the senseless conglomerate of letters, looking a lot less senseless and a lot more terrifying the more he stared and deciphered the meaning of the word the shrimp had actually meant to send.

“Help…” he murmured, shifting the hand on his chin to cover a portion of his mouth. Kenma nodded.

“Yeah. I think…” He grimaced. “It’s something you’d have to have been typing out in a rush to be able to mess it up so easily. And Shoyou most definitely must have been in a rush.”

“Or,” Kuroo looked away from the phone and stared out into space, looking into the depths of his thoughts as various scenes played out before his vision. “It’s possible he didn’t have much control over his hands—let’s say, they hit a bumpy road—and must have sent the uncorrected message by accident?”

“The road leading up to here doesn’t have any bumps. And there’s only one road.”

“The path from Miyagi to here—”

“Shoyou told me they were almost here. He could already see the mountains.” Kenma’s grip tightened visibly on his phone, a worried frown creasing his brows upwards. “He’d said their sensei told him the bus was an hour away.”

Kuroo quietened for a moment, resting his arms atop his knees and leaning against the side of the kitchen counter, repeating the implications behind Kenma’s words through the space of his head. “Do you really want to think that?” He veered his gaze back to the shorter male, his essence wracked with a sort of anxiety filled fear he was on the verge of being familiar with. “Do you really… want to think they could be in danger?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to think that. I really don’t, Kuro.” The taller watched as his childhood friend turned the phone downwards, rested the cup on the floor beside him, and averted his gaze towards the sky beyond the window. He looked more scared at an unproven concept than he’d ever seen him. “But it might be true.”

…

**5:08**

SHIMADA’s heart raced a thousand kilometers an hour as his hands pulsed against the vibrating outline of his Toyota’s stirring wheel, the fog coating along the surface of its window impeding his sights and sinking into the creaks of the vehicle much like the paranoia dribbling through the veins beneath his skin. His eyes must have veered towards the sideview mirror more times than it had been on the road before him, it was a wonder he hadn’t crashed into anything as of late.

Although, at 5:08 in the morning, there wasn’t categorically anything in his direct path or on the road itself to warrant any form of an accident.

Beside him, face and hair covered by a hoodie and eyes veiled by cheap, store-bought sunglasses, Saeko sat peaking at the road dimmed by the still darkened skies, once in a while turning away from the exterior’s view when she thought she saw someone sinister-looking outside. Each time Shimada was left more on edge than he currently was, the tale and events of the previous day playing out in the forefront of his memories, beginning from the moment he’d seen Saeko’s harried, injured figure outside his store entrance to the moment he’d carried her over to his house unconscious.

The downpour of the rain the previous day had remained prominent, and Saeko had stayed unconscious for over an hour. He’d waited till the second she’d opened her eyes, his mind, formerly locked in an agitated state of endless anxiety had been roused alight when she’d gasped awake. Shimada hadn’t wasted a moment, perching himself by her side and giving to her a glass of water which she fervently took. He’d urged the story of her early morning escapades out of her lips, and Shimada had sat, shocked and unnerved by the near-death experience she’d undergone all in the span of one morning—a morning that had barely even started.

_Attacked? Chased? By a group of people in a car?_

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the woman had gotten herself involved in some underground crime syndicate who was out for her neck because she owed them money. And _classic TV drama plotlines aside_, a little part of him would have believed it if she’d told him the case was exactly as he’d imagined. She seemed like the kind of person in high school that preferred to skip classes just to sneak up on the roof for the heck of it—at least to _him_—not that he knew her that well, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if it was true. Saeko had laughed and had been quick to refute his TV drama logic as soon as his curiosity had heightened enough to ask.

The both of them had ended up not leaving his apartment throughout the day, for fear that the people who had been after Saeko would be lingering outside the complex, waiting for the proper time to strike. Luckily for Saeko, her boss had allowed her to skip a day of work with the excuse that she was sick, though Shimada however hadn’t such luck. He’d had to leave his mart unlocked, his electricity meter running, and his goods and cash register unguarded for more than several hours of the day. Shimada had tried getting his neighbor, a kind old lady who ran a bookshop next to his mart, to help him check on the store while he wasn’t present, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to count on her to defend his property if it came down to someone attempting to rob him.

Which is why he was currently in a fritz now, his hands jittery and his anxiety climbing up to greater heights than he’d ever managed, the tires screeching against the floor and the car jolting to a stop as he stomped on the breaks.

They’d left when it was dark, when they were sure it would be safer to move around without having to run into Saeko’s attackers again. He’d even taken precaution and borrowed his neighbor’s car; the man having owed him a favor when he’d helped him with an errand earlier in the year. That way they wouldn’t be recognized by her pursuers while they went through the day. Inconvenient as the situation was—he honestly couldn’t help feeling like a hideaway fugitive—the drive had been thankfully silent, road skimpy with only a few drivers in the early morning before the sunrise, and other than the rising beating of his heart and the paranoia dashing through his soul, every thing else seemed relatively calm.

His store looked mostly untouched too, and his neighbor had helped him turn off the electricity meter so he wouldn’t have any extra bills to pay—Thank_ God_. He checked his freezers and shelves and saw nothing had been moved or misplaced, and had almost sighed in imminent relief till he’d gotten to his register and saw it was short of five thousand yen after inspection.

“It was too good to be true after all,” he muttered to himself, fetching his keys and locking up the container, before rechecking the vicinity of the mart, and locking up the building itself on his way out. He got back into the car, told Saeko the condition of his mart, and drove off to the next stop. Saeko had wanted to drive over to her house before all else, and despite her promises of being able to handle herself, he still thought it a better idea to go to the police station first of all.

The entire morning of reporting the occurrences of the previous day and going through several procedures had taken up a wholesome amount of time, and Shimada was left feeling exhausted at the end of it all. If Ukai were there, he wondered how he’d react to the story of the previous day’s circumstances. He doubted he’d believe him by much. Nothing remotely too interesting happened in their town besides the small incidents that occurred here and there at times, and those things especially didn’t happen to _them_ of all people.

Even now, back in his apartment after dropping Saeko off at hers in the mid-morning, a few hours till the afternoon, the entire thing felt… surreal.

He almost didn’t believe what had happened yesterday had _happened _at all.

Releasing a sigh, he turned his keys in the lock and pushed on the handle of his apartment door, muttering to himself that he needed to sleep for at least two hours before going back to work. Maybe when he woke up, the time would reset and he’d be waking up to the previous day, having experienced a normal morning with normal customers having normal problems, where his register wasn’t short of money, and the memory of Saeko showing up with blood staining her forehead at his doorstep didn’t plague him every minute of the day.

He could still feel his nerves on edge with anxiety.

Pushing the door open, he breathed in the familiar, old scent of his apartment and forced himself to relax, his forehead resting against the door as he fastened the locks and relaxed his weight against its surface, releasing a tired wisp of oxygen into the air. _He didn’t need to worry about that now_. He leaned away, thinking of Saeko.

It’s not like anyone was after _him_.

At least, he would have thought so, if he hadn’t heard the resounding _click _of a gun trained at the back his head the next second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliifhangers are my bread and butter. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! More angst to come in the next one <3<3


	15. XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The body found finally gains consciousness, and someone amongst the team lays impatient as he longs for an escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH I'M SO SORRY. omg Star. One month? Seriously? What have you been doinggg????  
Well I'm glad you (and by 'you' I mean no one) asked, cuz I've been drowning in assignments, tests and projects since the beginning of the month (archi student). Nevertheless! I am here to deliver. So, as promised, here is your next chapter. Just a little build-up to the next part as I will soon be concluding this... arc? Do I call it an arc? Whatever it is, I will soon be concluding it in about three or more chapters, after which I will be introducing new POVs and the likes. Till then, pls enjoy this chapter 😀😀😀

**9:01**

UKAI felt like he was falling.

His head felt lighter than normal, his limbs numb enough that he could barely feel the folds and curves of the surface he lay upon besides the general knowledge that he _was _laying on something, and opening his eyes felt as though he was looking directly into the sun’s blinding glare.

Upon reentering the world, his consciousness coming into slow, gradual fruition, he could barely register the sounds and motions of the happenings around him until minutes later, when his head didn’t feel like it was full of cotton and his soul didn’t feel detached from his body. The first thing he noticed was the bleached near-blinding white of the ceiling and its fluorescent shining directly above him, contrasting the serenity of the streaming lights emanating from the window within his periphery, the branch of a tree peeking from the edge of the sill.

The second thing he noticed was his immediate environment, the bleached ceiling, green encircling curtains and the scent of antiseptics, much like the nurses office back at Karasuno. The last being the state of his body, his heavy head and the numbing pain stemming from his shoulder, right above his heart, where he’d gotten—

_“Shit!”_

Ukai’s body sprung up from the bed before his brain could register his actions, nearly sending him tumbling off the edge. The rate of the heart monitor beside him beeped frantically, much like the memories of his last documented consciousness quickly rushing to the forefront of his mind.

_Karasuno! The bus! Takeda…! the kids…!_

_The **kids.**_

“_Shit, shit, shit, shit—_” He cursed loudly, ignoring the dryness of his throat and tongue and the tubes attached to his arm, tugging vigorously at the oxygen mask above his mouth and scrambling to climb off the bed.

_Takeda had been killed and they’d shot him in the chest. But the kids had still been in the bus…_

He doesn’t remember what happened to them…

_He **doesn’t remember**_…

Ukai barely felt the pain fringing his side as he landed against the floor, the tubes hastily and carelessly dislodged from his body in his frenzy. The heart monitor had flatlined, sending a high-pitched sonorous noise through the room surrounding him. _He had to get to them, he had to find them…_

_Where even was he_?

Just as he was questioning the current location of his disposition, the door to the room burst open, revealing the faces of two frantic nurses, and no other than coach Naoi and another of the advisors supervising the training camp during the summer, both looking as worried as the frantic nurses quickly flanking him, a heavy air of curiosity and fear gripping their features in their panic.

“Ukai-san!” Naoi sounded out, rushing towards him as he was helped up his feet by the nurses.

“Naoi…” he grunted, finally feeling the aches of his muscles and the stings in his clavicle from trying to move. They settled him on the bed, trying to get him to lay back down to re-administer the drips back into his arm. “Where’s the bus…?” He coughed, his vision blurring for a second as the dizziness stemmed from his heedless actions decisively caught up to him. “Where are the kids.?”

“What…?” The dark-haired coach looked on in confusion at the other, a frown marring his features as he neared closer. The other advisor said something about reporting to the others that he was awake. Naoi spared him a subliminal response. “U-Ukai-san, calm down!” He pushed against his chest, stopping him from trying to rise from the bed again. “You were in critical condition just yesterday. I’m surprised you’re not even in a coma!”

“Naoi,” This time, Ukai grabbed onto his wrist, pulling it away from him and forcing himself to sit upright. The grave expression on his face forced the other coach into silence. _The kids, he had to know if they were okay_. “Where’s my team…?”

The Nekoma coach furrowed his brows, warranted confusion joining the fray of emotions written across his face. “Your…” He paused, staring intently at Ukai and then his injury. “Your team…? They’re not here…”

_Damn_.

“Ukai-san, what on Earth happened?” the other coach asked worriedly, noticing the grip Ukai had on him had grown tighter. “I was told you were found on the street a mile from here. You’d been bleeding out and were barely alive! And… And Takeda-san was…”

Ukai released his grip as Naoi then grit his teeth, a dark shadow cascading its veil over his eyes as the unspoken words of an undeserved fate lingered in the space between them, the truth of the Karasuno teacher’s current state unable to leave the other’s lips.

“He’s dead,” Ukai confirmed, much to the acknowledgment of the dark-haired coach, the memory of the literature teacher being shot cruelly through the head resurfacing. “I know.”

“Damn…” he cursed, looking even more intently at the blond male, fist clenched expressively. “What the hell…” He cursed again, raising his voice even higher as questions began to build up within the other man. “_What did all this? You… Takeda…_” His eyes widened._ “_Your team…!”

_That’s what he wanted to know_.

“Hell if I know…” he muttered, vaguely aware of the nurses re-administering the dislodged shots back into his arm, gentle hands goading him to lean backwards despite everything within him wanting to protest against it. His tensed muscles however unwound themselves as he felt his back hit the pillow, a numb exhaustion settling over his mind and slowly drawing him away from the panic he’d felt prior. “Don’t know who they were… but—”

_The screams of the kids erupted from behind him as the sensei’s body hit the floor._

_He’d barely been spared a split second before something hard knocked against his chest, right beneath his clavicle, sending him careening downwards and towards the floor. _

_He’d felt heat—**a lot of heat**—spreading from his chest and towards every nerve ending of his body, a warm, damp sensation dripping over his shoulders and trickling softly down his arm. The kids—_

_His vision had wavered, slowly, ever so slowly, before blacking out._

_He’d come to later in a dreadful rain, the edges of his sight blurred and splotchy\ed as though he’d been blinded by light. Beside him, other than the cold, unmoving body of the sensei, and the rabid pattering of rain droplets falling from the dim sky, it was all…_

_Everything was empty._

_No one was there. The bus was gone. The kids were gone._

“They took them…” He felt his voice shake as he uttered words that threatened to overthrow the lingering threads of his sanity. The blankets were cold, clutched within his fisted hands. Naoi frowned; questions apparent in his gaze. “They were… they were taken… _shit._” He could still hear the youngest manager’s screams. He could still hear Hinata’s horrified yells and the panicked gasps of the students.

“_Fucking… kidnapped_—and I couldn’t do _shit…!_”

“Kidnapped?” His eyes widened. “Who?! _What for?!_” If there was a state that went beyond the point of present confoundment, he could tell the other coach had surpassed its threshold by a mile. _Fear. Confusion. Shock_.

They were all there, mirroring his own inky depths of despair.

“I…” His imminent exhaustion climbed, creeping its soft, feathery vines along the edges of his consciousness. Naoi yelled out his name. “I don’t know. Just—” He forced his eyelids to stay upright, forced the blackness trying to coat what remained of his awareness to slow down its adamant climb. _Damn nurses. They’re… putting me under._ “Call… call the police. Get your kids… get them out of here…”

“Ukai-san…!” He could register his name being called out by the dark-haired coach, the motions and urges of the nurses trying to get him out of the room, the swinging, doubling, darkening lights and swirls and voices slowly, gradually drowning out of his state of mind. Red mixed with white, and white mixed with green, and green became a congregation of blurs and greys that made his head spin. A shadow he found himself dreading crept over the corners of his vision, numbing each and every one of his senses till he could no longer feel.

And just like that, he’d fallen back into a long, long darkness.

\--`,`--

TANAKA never really contemplated the concept of mortality.

Not till it had splattered its dark, wet tendrils across his skin, and seeped itself so deeply through the surface of it till it was all that ran through his mind every waking second of his life. Or… well, what remained of it.

Thinking about it now, it was almost hilariously funny to the point it bordered on near fucking _insanity_. This… _situation_ of theirs. To think all that he’d lived for would all come to an end in a dim, insipid cell in the middle of fuckling _nowhere_. He almost wanted to laugh. _It was all so stupid_. How was any of this fair? _What was even the fucking **point**?_

Why did someone have to die? Why did his kouhai and senpai have to suffer?

_What the **fuck **the they do???_

He could still recall Hinata’s muffled whimpers, silently echoed in the middle of the night, sobs accompanied with begs and pleas for someone not to ‘go’, for an unnamed someone to ‘Please… please stop…’ while he curled into himself and shook in quiet terror. He could still remember hearing Daichi and Asahi trying to comfort Suga when he’d drifted and woken up with a barely stifled gasp, the captain and the spiker, dimmed by the night sounding utterly spent and tired.

Heck, staring at the small gathering of heads, pointing that out would simply have been stating the obvious. Tanaka looked around the cell from his corner, watching the almost dead-eyed, _tired as hell_ figures that were his teammates slump against themselves, covered in dirt and the thin, dried remains of someone that had been forced to say goodbye earlier than they were ever supposed to. _Is this what they were reduced to? _Fucking stains waiting to paint the walls and bodies of his friends? They’re lives splattered on fucking cement like some messed up canvas? Fuck no.

Fuck _no_.

Like hell he was watching anyone else die. _Like hell that was happening again_. He was going to find a way to protect everyone. He was going to find a way for them to fucking escape if he had to. No one was going to have to suffer anymore. Not on his watch.

Tanaka grunted out a “fine,” as Suga once more, took inventory on the states of his teammates, his voice sounding more exhausted and tired than he’d ever heard. The third-year setter was usually a lot more… _alive_, yelling out encouragements, offering helpful, reassuring critiques on their play on court, excitement blaring from his voice as an elation that exceeded the mere concept of satisfaction and joy and accomplishment seemed to seep its way into the game midway. Now though, in the dimness of their cage, Suga was just…

_God he looked half-dead._

_Hell_ if Hinata and everyone else didn’t look even remotely worse.

He’d expected that though, from not being able to sleep, or barely having the will to even remotely shut down. He knew he himself didn’t sleep. He’d been too anxious, too worried, expectant of the rusted metal doors swinging open upon the next twelfth hour, inviting in those disgusting bastards and their murderous guns and disturbing intent to kill. And he didn’t forget the fact that the disgusting fuck off a leader had also threatened to rape one of the girls too.

Sick fucks.

_Like hell he would_. He wasn’t touching Kiyoko-san or Yachi. Not even in his messed-up dreams.

“Suga, are you okay?” And there Daichi was, taking inventory of his closest friend because the grey-haired male, now that he mentioned it, hadn’t ever bothered considering himself. He watched the third-year nod his head, mumbling out an “I’m okay,” and leaning wearily against the taller male, slowly closing his eyes and releasing a soft, drained breath. He looked like he was about to sleep.

Good. He deserved it. After the bullshit he was put through the previous day, his senpai could use a moment of rest.

Tanaka tensed as whiny, rusted hinges screeched from a metal door from the other side of the room.

_Or maybe that rest time would have to wait_.

_The bastards were here_.

He recognized the dirty, green apparel belonging to the Eyepatch guy instantly, and he felt Daichi tense at his side, his arm holding onto Suga as he rested his hand on top of his head, keeping the face buried on his shoulder in that position. Tanaka felt a similar protectiveness, his body shifting slightly so he could block his senpai’s view away from the eyes—_ah, eye_—of the one-eyed freak. The bastard had some kind of sick attachment to the third-year setter. _And he didn’t like the way he looked at him_.

From the door, Eyepatch, who’d been talking to someone—possibly the person following from behind—had cut himself short as soon as he crossed the doorframe’s threshold, his gaze whipping towards the cell with a keen glint in his eye, that same eye roaming over the mixture of heads till it landed plainly on the one sporting familiar silver locks.

“Whew, what’s with this stench?” the man exaggeratedly waved his hand before his face, a grin lilting his lips into a nasty smile as he eyed the lot of them. “_Smells like someone died in here!_”

_Bastard…_

The Smoker dude had rolled his eyes, irritation imminent in every motion of the gesture as he scoffed in annoyance. Eyepatch scowled in the male’s direction.

“What? It was _funny_. Can’t take a joke?”

On his other side, he heard Noya growl. If it wasn’t for Daichi’s stern gaze and the green that had suddenly hued Hinata’s features, Tanaka would have joined him in his need to retaliate. However, he kept his fisted hands hidden. _Maybe it’s what they want. Maybe they’re just looking for their next victim and are trying to see who would speak up first_.

“You guys think it’s funny, right?”

_Or maybe he was just a damn loon._

The man was suddenly in front of the cell, hands clasped onto the bars, face pressed closely as though he wanted to melt through the barriers in his haste to further disturb the individual resting within it. He saw Suga flinch and curl into himself, trying to hide his anxiety in the crook of Daichi’s shoulder, away from the Eyepatch’s sights. The captain hugged the setter even closer towards himself, a stony expression hardening his countenance as he looked—_not glared_—at the unpleasant male on the other side of the bars.

For once he was thankful they were at least separated from the outside by the barely narrowed rails.

“Hm? What’s this?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you his boyfriend or something?” Eyepatch glowered, narrowing his singular eye at Daichi, before retreating back to Suga’s figure. “Hey Suga, is he your boyfriend?” Suga distinctively ignored the riveted male, further turning his face away and prompting an amused upturn of his lips. “Ignoring me are we? I’m hurt you know—”

“Enough of that, you crazy drunkard.” The other one, the other bastard that had murdered his kouhai, the Smoker and his lazy, detached drawl sounded from the other end, right behind him. Eyepatch clicked his tongue.

“Shut up.” His grin dropped slightly, his attention shifting towards the male at the back. “Can’t you see I’m having fun? What do you want this time fire hazard?”

“Don’t you have something you need to be doing?” He glared at the other man, an annoyed cadence to his overall tone. “The boss assigned me to watch the damn kids, last time I checked.”

“Go away. I’ll watch ‘em.”

Smoker rolled his eyes again, this time, looking even more irritated, if that was possible. “You just wanna play with your new toy.” He folded his arms, leaning against the wall corner and glaring at him from there. “Go do something productive for once, damn psycho. Boss won’t appreciate you slacking off, don’t you think?”

And with that, the man walked away grumbling, only leaving behind precedented wisps of his dread with a promise to come back, and an especially gross as fuck wink in Suga’s direction—or, more of a _blink_ in his case. Again. One eye.

Heaving a heavy, bored sigh, Smoker leaned further back against the wall, brought out a lighter from his pockets, and lit a cigarette, like he seemed to always do. Tanaka was expecting the silence. The fucker, despite being an ardent murderer, was remarkably calmer than the others as far as he could tell. He remembered him decisively keeping even that temperamental bandana wearing bulldog at ease with a simple grasp on his shoulder earlier on, when they were being hauled out of their bus during their kidnapping.

Albeit… he’d been the one to also stomp on Tsukishima when the tall blonde had spoken out, but in general…

Yeah. Pretty calm fucker.

Said fucker, after having watched the heavy iron door screech shut, had slid down so he was sitting on the floor, a light haze of smoke seeping through his lips and desecrating the air as he took out what looked to be a really small, really light, worn out book from his coat pocket. He watched warily, as he flipped to the middle of the book, and then started reading it. Rather silently.

Five minutes passed, and the man didn’t look up, apparently rather engaged in the piece of literature in his hands. He looked somewhat preoccupied.

_Was he distracted?_

Or was it a tactic to make them think he wasn’t really paying attention? It was probably so they’d let their guards down. _As if_. Motherfucker. Tanaka was watching him like a fucking hawk.

Though, looking closely, the book looked to be a really _old_, and… a little bit familiar from the vague memories of the untouched bookshelf he usually saw in his sister’s room, which… wasn’t really important in retrospect. He wasn’t even really sure why he begun to think of his sister in that moment… and her really, really good, delicious, mouth-watering tempura udon, and the apron she always wore when she was cooking that she sometimes forgot to take off, or her annoying, embarrassing, drunk as hell, hugs squeezing his face into those lecherous watermelons she called a chest—

_And her_…

Her…

Shit.

He’d never really thought about it now that… he was…

Tanaka shook his head and bumped it slightly against the wall. _Distracted._ He was getting distracted. He’d… think about home once he found out a way for them to escape. But right now… right now he had to focus on breaking out of this goddamn cell.

Something loud and light skidded lightly against the floor, its unexpected echo prompting a shocked flinch from a majority of his teammates as Smoker blew out yet another puff of air—God help them if they get second-hand lung damage—another pointed towards the small, rectangular, palm-sized box resting on the other side of the cage. It looked familiar.

“Occupy yourselves with something,” the man murmured, momentarily glancing away from his book and towards the quiet teens trapped behind bars. “You’ll get bored just sitting there.”

Tanaka refused to fight the urge to glare at the man, willing his spite and discontent to the raging corner of unconcealed ire at the frontlines of his consciousness. The asshole had gone back to his source of entertainment, seemingly not paying them much mind for another minute. He scoffed. _Like they were falling for that_. There was no way they were accepting anything from—

A hand reached from behind him, stretching past the cell bars and grabbing the deck of cards from beyond it. Tanaka frowned at the captain. “_But—!_"

“It’s… better than just doing nothing right?”

He seemed to be saying this to the whole team, a few of them looking nervous, Asahi looking as though he was expecting a deadly bomb to ignite from the small cardboard case, Tsukishima—a bit intrigued but cautious all the same—and then Hinata, still possessing that green hue to the tint of his skin, looked _a lot _more interested than Tanaka would have given him credit for given their current condition.

“I-I’d like to play…!” The enthusiasm sounded unnaturally forced, and Tanaka bit back a wince, not willing to comment on how pale the usual sunbeam of light now looked in the shadow of lingering grief. Yamaguchi, still beside Tsukishima, rose a wary hand, voice somewhat quiet despite how much it seemed to echo.

“…M-me too…”

“Ah…” Ennoshita scratched at his chin, tilting his head as he looked to be contemplating the idea. “It wouldn’t hurt… I mean… I wouldn’t mind having something to do... in the meantime…”

“Okay then,” Daichi said, failing to hide his minimal disquiet in the creases of his brow or the tired lines underneath his eyes, turning the box in his hands and shuffling out the solitaire cards packaged neatly within it. Tanaka laid back and folded his arms. He wasn’t touching that shit.

Tanaka understood their mentality to a degree, and no matter how much it churned his empty stomach, the Smoker guy was right. They needed to occupy themselves with something, or the silence and quietness of misery would crumble the floor beneath their feet and drown them in a sightless void if they chose to dwell on it for much longer. He hated it. _Fuck_. He hated _this_ more than anything. But they couldn’t just sit around and mope.

He wanted to help, in any way he could. He remembers he sister saying once, that ‘The men that stand by and do nothing aren’t actual men’, and there was no way in hell he was going to sit and wait and cry for another second. Not anymore. And… it might have been the fear—_not that he was afraid. He **wasn’t**_—or the deep, rooted feeling of bubbling anger, or the scent of the smoke polluting the already cramped environment coming from the man crouched at the room’s corner but—

He felt, _knew_, that staying there for another day was another death sentence waiting to happen.

He wasn’t going to wait any more. They would either escape today, or stay to lose another life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wtf coach you can't just wake up and tell Naoi all of that now he's gonna panic  
And Ohoho?? Tanaka wants to escape? Let's see how this plays. Wonder if he has a plan....
> 
> Anyway! Thanks so much for reading! And thanks so much for over 4k hits!!! You guys are amazing honestly! I wouldn't have been motivated to continue this without ya'll!! I really appreciate your love and your supportive comments! <3<3 See you guys next chapter.


	16. XVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinoshita wakes up and prepares to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (**I’m so sorry I hadn’t updated for so long >”<. I had school and homework and a heck of a lot of things to worry about so I didn’t have time to update for _weeks!!! _BUT, Star is here to deliver once again!!!Take this medium length chapter as an apology for my long, _long _absence (~ -- ^ \--)~. *Throws 2.7k words and runs* **
> 
> **From this point the plot might move a teensy, weensy bit faster.**)

16

**6: 03**

**2 hours earlier**

KINOSHITA was warm.

That was the first thing he’d registered upon awaking from temporary slumber. He was warm, and was covered in what felt like a scratchy yet comforting blanket, the surface he was laying upon feeling much like an old, worn-out futon. Opening his eyes, the first thing he noticed was a rotted ceiling, cracks demarcating enough of it to make it look like it was about to fall off if not for the ancient mold holding it all together. The next was within his line of sight, the tender, crackling red, orange embers of fire clarifying the cause of his apparent warmth and the heat flanking his left side.

The final thing he noticed, was that his hands had been untied.

… _Okay_…

Mustering the garnered strength he’d accumulated from his nap—however long it was _though he felt like he’d been asleep for days_—he lifted his body from the floor, arms shaky as he tried balancing his weight, before pushing himself upwards, his back coming into contact with a wall so he was sitting upright. A tender breeze wafted into the room, the coolness infilling his lungs and gliding over his somewhat sweaty skin.

It was only until his gaze had landed upon the open window settled on the other side of the room, the rickety structures and dissimilar wooden surfaces, did he then notice that he’d… changed locations.

He felt the creak in his muscles and a wearing sway lining his vision as he attempted to stand up, his hand placed on the warm wood wall to aid his balance, the other one placed on his pounding head. _Ugh_. It ached. He swayed again, the new room moving with him. _It ached **bad**_. Kinoshita didn’t remember being moved, and the vague memories of bandages being wrapped around his injuries by quick, careless hands merely aided in explaining the stiff lines of cloth he felt wrapped around his arm and abdomen.

The blanket pooled around his feet as he surveyed his immediate surroundings, taking in the weirdly angled, horizontal window positioned just below the low ceiling, scattered wooden chairs and cabinets placed oddly on the walls, a few tattered newspapers and an array of bottles littering the floor, and an exceptional make-shift fireplace positioned on a low platform of cement—which, considering a little _forethought_, really shouldn’t belong in the inside of a _wooden _building. _‘Cause you know… **wood**._

However, despite the lack of discretion put into its placement, its fire shed a large portion of the light the dimmed skies were yet to fabricate, skies that only bore to display the sparsity of clouds and lingering coldness of the atmosphere. By that alone, he could tell that the morning was only just starting, and was most likely already around 6 or something. It made him wonder how long he’d actually been asleep. _Well… definitely more than a few hours_. If he’d been so easily incapacitated and out of it that he had no recollection of being carried or moved.

But still… It was weird. Had he been drugged?

The man, while suspicious and ominous, and baring an unclear motive as to why he’d helped him had still, after all, _helped_ him, even after Kinoshita smashed a glass bottle in his face as an introduction. Which, thinking back to now, despite his justified reaction—because it was definitely justified—might have been a bit much, on his part. _Could you blame him though?_ He’d been fucking _scared_. He’d been hurt and injured and afraid and he’d done the only thing he could think of doing at that moment in time.

It wasn’t like the man would hold him against it, given that he’d ended up helping Kinoshita in the end.

It wasn’t like the man would hold him against what he was about to do either.

The door—which Kinoshita had found to be in the corner of the room—though locked, sported a few delicate cracks and crevices in its tender wooden frame, a testament to how weak its structure was, and how easy it would be to break it down by sheer force. He shifted away from the wall, slowly rolling his shoulder and biting his tongue at the slight ache that emanated from his joints. It should be easy.

He was alone in this small, wooden, cabin, and though he was unsure of where the man had gone to—considering if he actually owned the cabin in the first place—in between now and a few minutes, Kinoshita was certain, that he only had just enough time, and enough space, to _run_.

Now, he wouldn’t say he wasn’t at the very least _grateful_. He was glad for the man’s help. His injuries didn’t hurt as bad as before, and the aches pervading his muscles as well as his prior nausea and potential hypothermia had dwindled a significant amount because of him. _But_—

_There was no way he was actually _staying_ with this dude._

For all Kinoshita knew, he might have been working with those murderous abductors. He was probably trying to fix him up so whoever wanted him and his teammates didn’t have to deal with blemished goods.

And as immensely thankful as he was, he knew the longer he stayed there, the more time was lost looking for a way to save his team, the more danger all of them were in. He could only imagine what had already happened to them, or where they even _were_.

_Were they dead? Had they… had they already **killed** them? _

_Just like they’d killed sensei and coach…?_

He didn’t… _God_, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to _know_.

Kinoshita held a hand to his stomach, feeling it churn. He wasn’t sure if it was anxiety or hunger.

_Right_. He swallowed down a gulp. He needed to leave. But first…

His eyes drifted across the space of the cabin, glancing over the cabinets hammered into the walls and the cupboards placed beneath them. _Food_. Kinoshita needed food if he was ever going to survive going back there, as well as a few other supplies, _shoes and a jacket maybe?_ He looked around again. _Did he have those?_ He walked across the space of the creaking, wooden floorboards, past the crackling make-shift fireplace and over to the nearest cupboard just about a few feet in front of him.

The musty, peeling thing didn’t have a handle, it was however already cracked open, and only needed a little nudge before its contents were put on full display. His eyes veered over the shelves, only spotting two glass jars full of some… black… sort of thing… _what were those?_ It looked like… grounded charcoal. Kinoshita reached upwards and nudged it to the side, shifting it away so he could roam his hands across the top half of the shelf. He wasn’t going to linger on it.

Whatever the man wanted with a jar of coal or whatever it was wasn’t his business.

Finding nothing of value, he moved to the next shelf, his heart jumping in elation as his fingers came into contact with a sachet packet at the back corner. He dragged it forward and over the edge, his mouth watering as he brought the packet to his line of sight and read the covering. _Watermelon_. Was it juice? Kinoshita shook the container beside his ear, confirming its contents by the irregular sloshing of liquid coming from within. _Food!_

He tore the top open with his teeth, and sucked on the sachet’s tear, the sweet, saccharine flavor of the liquid infilling his mouth and causing it to water. He wasn’t usually a fan of watermelon flavor—he much preferred the fruit itself by a mile—but at that current moment, he wouldn’t have cared if he’d been drinking raw lime. _He just hadn’t realized how **hungry **he’d been_. Throughout his journey through the forest, he hadn’t really eaten anything. All he’d done was drink stream water, and he didn’t trust himself not to accidentally ingest some sort of poisonous fruit in his attempt to satiate his empty stomach.

Now though, at the imminent relief infilling every inch of his being, he shuddered at the thought of having to reexperience that again. _Yeah_, no way. He wasn’t going to starve himself or let the forest get to him like that ever again.

Kinoshita found several other juice packets on that same shelf, and on the one below, a few other things that looked like food bars, which he also packed in generous amounts in his arms. Now he wasn’t really _stealing_—he **wasn’t**. He was just… surviving. _Yeah_. Surviving. And one couldn’t hope to survive without any _food_. Besides, he wasn’t taking _all _of his food. He was just taking… the minimum amounts of necessary items, enough to at least last him maybe a few days.

He sucked on the juice packet stuck between his teeth as he went through other cupboards and cabinets, his arms becoming full and stuffed with every ravage, prompting him to utilize the scratchy blanket he’d woken up in as a makeshift carrier. The other closets had either been empty, or had contained more jars and bottles of unknown substances—he suspected them to be drugs of some sort, although he didn’t know of what _kind_. One closet had a huge sheet of torn paper covering its surface, which he took and folded into his trouser pockets, deeming it useful. _It would be more useful if he had a pen or something_. He could make a map to avoid getting lost like before.

Kinoshita kicked aside an empty bottle as he walked over to the final cabinet. He already had the amount of food he needed, and maybe a half empty bottle of painkillers—one of the few drugs he’d recognized among the compartment—he’d however been unable to find a jacket or an extra pair shoes, or his own pair of shoes for that matter. It was probably in that dark room he’d woken up in much earlier—

His line of thought came to an abrupt stop as he tripped over an uneven wood panel, his hands flailing and grasping onto a chair in order avoid colliding with the floor’s contents. Kinoshita frowned at the hollow sounding, loudly creaking floor board and reached down to examine what looked like a rusted metal hinge hidden partially by shadows and a thin, threadbare rug.

A trapdoor.

Kinoshita’s eyes widened as he reached over to the edge and nudged against the uneven floor partition. There was more to this cabin. _Was that where he’d been?_ He quickly drew his hand away as the trapdoor’s edge rose upwards an inch. Yeah… it probably wasn’t a good idea to go there. What if the guy was sleeping down in that room? He wouldn’t want to be rude and _disturb _him now would he?

Mmhm. It was probably better if he just… yeah… backed away and went back to preparing to leave the cabin.

Kinoshita turned and went back to searching the closets, now feeling as though eyes were on his person now that he’d discovered the hidden room. He kicked a chair over the trapdoor, knowing it might not do much but hoping all the same that it would prevent the man—should he be hiding there—from leaping out and surprising him. The next closet was empty—not really surprising—as well as the next one, and then the next, and then the—

“_H-holy hell!_.” The juice packet fell from his lips as he screamed and backed away from the sight of the _disgusting, bloody, **rot **_coating the interior of the cupboard before him.

_What… what the hell **is **that?!_ Was that a **_body_**???

“O-Oh God…” Kinoshita held a hand to his mouth as the juice he’d ingested threatened to spill out of his mouth. _What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck_—

That was a fucking _body_. He was going to be sick—_how long had that been in there?_

He felt his body shake as he backed away from the sight of the _lifeless, brutalized_, human being that had been stuffed into the cramped confines of the last open cupboard, dried and **_drying_** blood staining every inch of the interior’s surface. The body’s face was covered by a sack, rendering them temporarily unidentifiable—not that he _wanted _to know whoever the hell that was—the rest of the person’s clothes coated in layers of blood mostly present around his stomach.

He slammed the door shut as soon as he was able to move his arms.

“W-what the hell…” Kinoshita whispered, feeling his jaw quiver. _What the **hell**. How had he not **smelt** that?! What— _He—he had to get out of here. _He had to get out of here and **fast**_. His movements turned frantic and agitated as he moved to the blanket where he’d kept his stolen items, his fingers trembling as he fought with the edges of the covering in his rush to tie the corners into a portable carrier sack. “_Shit. Shit. Shit—_” A _murderer_. He’d been rescued by a fucking **_murderer_**. _He’d had his injuries treated and had been nursed back to health by a killer that kept his bodies in **cupboards**_.

If he’d had any doubts about leaving before, they were surely gone _now_.

Kinoshita swore, tripping over a bottle on his way to the door, the bag bundled closely to his chest. He didn’t care about the shoes anymore. _And besides, he had this blanket/bag_. He could just use that when he was cold.

He felt his heart leap out of his chest as something loud thumped against the floor behind him, sliding the chair he’d placed above the trapdoor a little ways to the right. The loud thump echoed again, coming from the wooden panel rattling and jolting outwards like it would do if it were about to open up. Which, he guessed, was what was already happening.

Kinoshita swore again, this time louder, letting out a loud “_Fuck!_” as he hurried for the exit, vigorously trembling hands wrestling for the rusted handle and pulling with all the might and terror of a man desperate for escape. The ache in his shoulder resurfaced as he tugged harshly against the stuck door, the jostling of the trapdoor becoming louder and louder until—

“Hey! What are you—?”

_Fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck—_

The door in the ground had opened up, and the man stepping out of it let out a curse as the sight of Kinoshita trying to leave his cabin came into view. “Oi kid! What the hell are you doing—?”

Kinoshita went ‘screw it’ and decided he’d worry about reopening his injuries _after _he was done running for his life. He hugged his bag of food even tighter against his chest, and rammed his shoulder into the door. Pain blossomed through his clavicle and shoulder blade, a soft, burning sensation licking at his muscles and nearly bringing tears to his eyes. He ignored it, and went at the surprisingly strong wood again. _He’d treat his own injuries after this_. He was getting _out _of here.

“Kid hold on!” A hand grabbed at his bicep, ripping an alarmed yell from the depths of Kinoshita’s rising panic. He tried wrestling his arm away from the male’s hard grip, but then another hand reached for his other shoulder, pulling him away from the door. The sack of condiments fell to the floor, momentarily forgotten as all his effort was fed into his need to _run_.

“Calm down dammit!”

“No! Let go of me!” He revved back a foot and swung it hard, kicking his sole against the guy’s shin as hard as he could. The man had released a grunt, but his victory was short lived as the man’s hold only pressured and tightened against him, stronger arms slipping around his upper body and calloused hands holding his wrists in a harsh grip. “_H-help! Somebody help m—!_”

“Hey! Keep it down!” The man warned, slamming a palm over his mouth. “Someone might—!”

Kinoshita bit hard at the hand over his mouth, the man cursing at the unexpected attack and releasing his hold against his speech. His panic climbed as the man only renewed his efforts and wrestled him to the ground, tone frantic and insistent in his demand for him to “_shut the hell up dammit!_”

He merely ignored him and continued to scream and claw and fight.

He’d only just been about to run out of energy, when the man had concluded that he’d had enough, and decided to slam his fist into the temple of his aching head.

For the third time since the kidnapping, Kinoshita went out like a light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh thank you so much for reading! I'd honestly been planning on putting this off because of the second half of this chapter (which was supposed to make this chapter as a whole 6.4k words ;-;). It however felt unsatisfactory and I didn't want to give you guys something substandard and disappointing, hence the long wait. The second chapter _might_ just take as much time as well, 'cause OP still sorely needs a beta, because writing something this long and overarching takes a toll on me and sometimes I feel like combusting due to the stress of trying to complete something I don't want to abandon. Sorry again for the wait though! And thank you guys so much for your support! I read and treasure each and every one of your comments!!!<3
> 
> (If you're interested in the beta position feel free to contact me via twitter @Annethebella)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are highly appreciated!


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